


In-Fernal Union (The Non-Explicit Version)

by Rinkafic



Series: Fernal 'verse [8]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 09:36:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinkafic/pseuds/Rinkafic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sparks fly, things get heated, and rash decisions are made.   </p><p> </p><p>  <em>And... dragons!</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	In-Fernal Union (The Non-Explicit Version)

**Author's Note:**

> There are 2 versions of this story, the other is very explicit. I hope this version didn’t suffer too much from the edit. I felt the need to present this version because the other entries in the Fernal ‘verse were not chock full o’ pron. The only big story point that was lost in the edit, I hope, was that through the course of events happening, Stackhouse ended up bonded to Mitchell as well as Sheppard.

After a brief internal debate, Cam tossed a ham and cheese sandwich onto his tray, followed by a bag of chips and a bottle of water. He glanced around the mess hall, disheartened when he didn’t see any friends in the room. SG-1 had disbanded once again and this time it was probably for keeps. Everyone had moved on to greener pastures, leaving Mitchell behind. A lot of the unfamiliar faces belonged to members of the Atlantis Expedition, at the base for training and orientation. It had taken several months of red tape and meetings, but the city was finally being re-staffed and sent back to Pegasus.

“Hey, Mitchell.”

He turned as someone bumped his shoulder and smiled to see the object of his latest obsession standing there, looking hot enough to melt ice. “Sheppard. I guess you’re here for the hand-off?”

Sheppard nodded. “Yup.”

There was supposed to be an announcement made about the command of the expedition later that afternoon. Months of arguments between the SGC and the IOA had finally culminated in the decision to have a military commander, rather than a civilian led mission this time out.

“You really pulled your name out of the hat?” Mitchell asked. He had not had many occasions to talk to Sheppard, usually they were across the room from each other in some meeting or another. But Cam had looked. He liked looking at every opportunity.

With an elegant shrug, Sheppard gave him a half smile and Cam felt his stomach drop and his breath quicken, having that expression directed at him. “I like taking out the away missions. You don’t get out much when you’re manning the big desk.”

“True,” Cam agreed. “Join me for lunch?” Mitchell tilted his head towards the tables.

“Sure.” Sheppard headed off to get a tray while Mitchell went to secure them a table.

Cam watched Sheppard as he sauntered over to pick out his lunch; there was no other word for it, the man was sauntering. Cam was in trouble, this attraction he felt for Sheppard - that had started back when SG-1 visited Atlantis on a mission - had grown to an obsession since Sheppard had turned up at Cheyenne Mountain. Sheppard was leaving in a few weeks to take Atlantis back to Pegasus, there was no point in complicating matters and risking making a fool of himself by saying anything.

“They just put out cupcakes, lunch lady says they go quickly so I grabbed one for you. You want the vanilla or the chocolate?” Sheppard asked as he sat down across from Cam.

“Whichever you don’t want is fine, I like both.”

With a sigh, Sheppard eyed both frosted cupcakes on his tray before putting the chocolate one on the corner of Cam’s tray. After taking a bite of his sandwich he leaned back and looked at Mitchell. “So, I hear your name is in the hat.”

“O’Neill has me on the list, he thinks I need to do something other than the SGC’s paperwork around here. I think he’s mildly concerned for my sanity.”

“What makes you say that?” Sheppard asked.

“He said, 'Mitchell, I’m more than a little worried about your sanity.'”

After chuckling, Sheppard waved his hand around to encompass the SGC. “I can’t wait to get back to Pegasus. Earth is too... crowded.”

Cam found himself staring and had to force his gaze down to his tray. He pushed the meatballs around on his plate, giving his attention to the food instead of the man across the table.

“Do you want to go?” Sheppard asked after a long silence.

Cam shrugged. “I’d miss my family. But work isn’t the same since SG-1 broke up again for good. It isn’t like that first time, when you guys left without a definite way back. The _Daedalus_ will come and go, right?”

He hadn’t really thought too much about it. Like everyone else, Cam had thought Sheppard was a shoo-in for the job, until the rumor mill got hold of the news that he had refused the position. O’Neill had hinted that if Mitchell really wanted the job, it might just take a few words in the right ear to secure it for him. Did he want it?

He jerked upright when Sheppard said, “Deep thoughts there, Mitchell.”

“What do you like best about it?”

“The quiet. In between the Wraith attacking us, and running for our lives, there were a lot of quiet days,” Sheppard laughed lightly. “Space is a good buffer, keeps the problems I left behind on Earth, on Earth.”

What would Cam be leaving behind? A job that had gotten boring as hell. A failed relationship, Amy Vanderberg had been willing to forgive him a lot of mistakes from the past, but she hadn’t been able to look past his nature. She was disturbed by the fact that he wasn’t particular about whether his partner was male or female. That confession had led to everything going down in flames quickly. His team? Scattered to the winds, he only spoke to them by video conference or email these days. That wouldn’t change too much, when he thought about it, there would be monthly databursts from Earth, so he could maintain contact with Sam, Daniel, Teal’c and Vala.

“You’re considering it, aren’t you?”

“The opportunity for a fresh start is kind of enticing,” Cam replied, taking a sip of water. “Leaving my family would be the worst part.”

“Best part for me,” Sheppard said. He reached down and pulled his cellphone from his pocket as it buzzed. Reading the message, he scowled. “I hate to cut this short, but McKay wants me to sit in the new chair and run some tests.” He popped the remainder of his cupcake in his mouth and stood. “Coffee to go.”

“Good luck with those tests, we need the replacement chair.” Area 51 had been a total loss after the Wraith attack that had led to Atlantis being on Earth. They had salvaged what they could, and McKay and his team of scientists had cobbled together a new control chair and defense system over the past few months.

Sheppard grinned. “McKay is determined to see it finished before we leave.”

“He’s going then?”

“As of this morning, he wasn’t. But that will change again by dinnertime. I guess we won’t really know until launch. See you later, Mitchell.”

“Yeah, see ya,” Cam said, glancing over his shoulder to watch John dump his tray and take his coffee cup as he left the mess hall. He couldn’t let a stupid crush heavily influence his decision to take a job in another galaxy. That would be stupid, immature and irresponsible.

**~*~**

Chuck had told Cam that Movie Night was a tradition on base that had to be upheld. Apparently, Woolsey had tried to change the night once, and the location numerous times, which had not helped his popularity. The way Chuck had phrased it let Cam know this was serious business that he shouldn’t screw around with.

He had survived his first two weeks as head of the Atlantis Expedition without any drama or major incidents. There had been no sign of the Wraith since their return, for which everyone was grateful. Things were running smoothly. Both McKay and Zelenka had opted to return with them. McKay was especially pleased that they had not come back into a war zone, claiming that he finally had time to get some real work done, since he didn’t have to constantly be saving all their lives.

He had hoped that he could get over the ‘thing’ he had for Sheppard. If Kate Heightmeyer had been available, he would have gone to talk to her about it, but Kate had been lost on the original expedition. When that news had come, it had hit Mitchell hard, she had been a good friend.

“So, what’s the movie tonight?” Cam asked Chuck as he wandered into the Control Room after clearing off his desk for the day.

“Creature from the Black Lagoon,” Chuck replied with a grin. “Double feature with Invasion of the Body Snatchers.”

Cam snorted, “Don’t we get enough of that stuff in real life?”

The tech replied, “It’s retro night,” as if that should explain everything.

After eating his dinner alone in the mess hall, he swung by his quarters to change into jeans, a tank top and a flannel shirt his mom had given him for his last birthday. He debated about bringing a snack to the movie, but decided he could do without since he had just eaten.

The rec hall was about half full when he arrived. He took a seat on the end of a row of chairs and chatted with Alison Porter and Laura Cadman, sitting in the row in front of him. Just before the lights went down, Sheppard came in, and to Cam’s surprise, didn’t sit with McKay and Zelenka across the way, but instead climbed over a few people to take the empty seat next to Cam.

“Hey,” he said, dropping into the chair.

“Hey,” Cam replied quietly.

Sheppard leaned over and asked in a whisper, “Horror or new stuff night?”

“Chuck said retro.”

“Cool!” Sheppard grinned and sat back, sprawling out as much as he could in the chair. His shoulder was touching Cam’s. Cam debated moving his chair slightly to give them some space. But he didn’t.

Sitting so close together, Sheppard’s aftershave and shampoo were making Cam’s nose twitch. Crap. He wanted Sheppard, he wanted him badly. But he couldn’t make a move, not only because of their positions, but Cam was fernal and relationships with those not of Allos rarely went well.

The need to touch became overwhelming. Ignoring the splashing monster on the screen, in his head Cam started drafting what he would say in his letter of resignation to General O’Neill, or as his defense at his trial. ‘I couldn’t keep my hands to myself’ sounded like such a lame excuse.

He could see very well in the dark, thanks to his allaghi nature. He watched Sheppard as Sheppard watched the movie. This posting was going to be hell unless he could find a way to get over this infatuation.

**~*~**

John kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, watching the movie. But he couldn’t ignore the surface stuff pouring off Mitchell. Like most humans, Mitchell had no sense of control over his thoughts and never thought to mask his emotions from any fernal that might be around, since they had no idea they might be in the company of people that could pick up on things. John had noticed Mitchell’s interest back at SGC. He had been surprised and a little flattered by the attention.

He sensed that Mitchell was distracted by the attraction, fighting it. John was also torn about it. Starting a relationship of any kind with a human was unwise. He had rarely bothered trying to start up anything, knowing it couldn’t last and hating the mess that came along with ending an affair. But Mitchell was different, and John found himself on the verge of breaking his own rules and acting on his impulses. Mitchell had his juices flowing. His libido in full gear for the first time in years. If it were clear from the start that it was just sex, nothing permanent, just a way to blow off steam, maybe it could work.

Mitchell’s eyes were boring a hole in the side of John’s head, he was staring so intently. By the time the second movie was playing, John had let his knee fall to the side and his leg was now pressed along Mitchell’s. He needed to touch skin. He slid his hand down and brushed his knuckles against the back of Cam’s hand and they both jumped at the touch. John snapped his head around to stare into Mitchell’s face. That little touch had been quite revealing. Mitchell was not what he seemed. John wasn’t certain yet what he was, but he wasn’t all human, he was at least part fernal.

And that changed the game.

He leaned over and whispered, “You want to get out of here?”

“Yeah.” Mitchell was out of his chair and moving to the door before John realized he had agreed. He followed after him, blinking at the relatively bright light in the corridor. Surprised, he followed along as Mitchell grasped his wrist and dragged him towards the transporter.

When they got inside, Mitchell was on him, his hands in John’s hair as he pulled him into a kiss. John was pressed against the doors as Mitchell mauled his mouth. Not that he was complaining, he sighed and relaxed into it. He let his hands slip around Mitchell’s waist and pulled him closer, encouraging him.

Suddenly, Mitchell was pushing away. He turned to stab a finger at the location closest to his quarters then turned back to Sheppard and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Sorry. This might be a bad idea.”

“It doesn’t need to be,” John replied, basking in the lust pouring off Mitchell, glad that both seemed to be on the same page. He reached for Mitchell and pulled him close. He should let Cam know he was haima before they went too far.

Their conversation was put on hold as the transporter doors opened and they had to exit into the corridor. “Come on, we can talk in my quarters,” Mitchell said. John wondered if Mitchell was even aware that he was dragging John by the wrist behind him as he stormed towards his quarters. This was going to be interesting, it seemed that both of them were rather aggressive. This was a new dynamic for him, and it heightened his expectations.

The door opened and Mitchell shoved him inside, and they were kissing again and all rational thought fled from John’s mind.

~*~

Sheppard pushed him back against the closed door. He closed his lips over Cam’s Adam’s apple and sucked lightly before licking and nibbling a path up to his ear. He dug his fingers into Sheppard’s shoulders and pulled him closer.

With a sigh, Cam tilted his head back and let him have all the access he wanted. He probably shouldn’t be doing this with a human, he hoped he could keep himself in check while in the throes of passion and not hurt Sheppard, or worse, accidentally shift forms. What a way to blow his cover, out himself and scare his partner.

Sheppard pulled back slightly and planted both hands on the wall beside Cam’s head. He stared into Cam’s face as he tilted his head and looked at him oddly. Then a smile spread over his face. “Sneaky,” he whispered, then leaned down and licked a stripe over Cam’s throat again. “Very, very sneaky.”

“How so?” Cam asked, uncertain about the sudden change of mood.

“Covering up your scent. By the way, your soap tastes dreadful.” John stuck his tongue out and pulled a face. “I still can’t get a decent read, my mouth is full of soap and aftershave.”

“You’re fernal?” Cam blinked in surprise. He leaned close and sniffed at John’s hair. “I don’t get it, I don’t pick up anything from you.” He should be able to, his nose was highly sensitive.

John grinned as he nodded. “I’m masking. Force of habit.” He closed his eyes. When he opened them and looked at Cam again, it was if a window had been opened, he could smell a new earthy, woodsy scent coming from the man in front of him.

“I don’t know whether I’m relieved or more nervous now,” Cam admitted. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but what are you?”

Leaning down again, John licked Cam’s throat again, in the same spot. “Only if you tell me, I really can’t figure you out, you taste all mixed up. I taste one thing, but then I get a hint of something else entirely.”

“Allaghi, born of deigma,” Cam admitted.

“Haima, born in Kansas.”

“No shit?”

“No shit, I’m haima.”

“No, I meant about Kansas. Where in Kansas?”

That made John smile. “Seward County, down near the Oklahoma border. In 1907. Town’s gone now, eaten up in the depression by the dust storms.”

“So there’s a coven here, in Atlantis?” Cam asked, his curiosity getting the better of his lust momentarily.

“Nope. Just me.” John pressed his lips to Cam’s throat, sucking lightly on the spot he had been licking earlier.

Cam moved his hands up John’s shoulders to his neck, stroking lightly with his fingertips. “Maybe we should go slow. I don’t want to lose it here, hurt you.”

That made John laugh against his skin. “Do your worst, I’m fairly durable.”

“That so?”

“Oh, yeah.” John bit him lightly. “Been a while, though. You think you can handle a little pent-up frustration?” Unable to keep quiet, Cam let out a deep groan and threaded his fingers through Sheppard’s dark hair, pulling him closer as he worked over Cam’s throat with lips, tongue and teeth.

He couldn’t let this go on. He had no idea what letting loose would do, he had never found anyone that could stand up to his strength since he had come into his power. He had racked up a few trysts with other allaghi, but none had been satisfying. He forced John’s head back, pulling his hair to bring his face up so that he could catch his eye. “I can’t. I don’t trust myself.”

“I really am tougher than I seem, Mitchell.”

Cam pushed him back, shaking his head. “No. I won’t take the risk. Not just for sex.”

Running a hand through his hair in frustration, John dropped the other to his hip and glared. “You need proof? Go ahead, change, I’ll take you on full strength.”

“You’re certifiable!”

“No, I’m worked up and you’re hot as hell. I want, Mitchell. Don’t be a tease, what were you expecting when you brought me here?”

Cam shook his head. “I... no. This was just to let off steam. I didn’t intend for more, and this is becoming more.” This was temptation. Temptation wrapped up in a pretty, pouting, slouching package.

“You can’t hurt me, Mitchell. Unless you’ve got a sword and intend to take off my head.”

“Stop... I...” Cam pushed at John when he started running his hands up Cam’s arms.

“Are you scared? Don’t be, I promise not to take blood. Not my thing. Blood and sex don’t really mix for me.” He gave a shudder of mild revulsion as he said it.

“I’m not scared of you.”

John cupped his cheek and bit his jaw. “Then c’mon, let’s play. No strings, we can let off that steam, each of us gets what we need. When was the last time you cut loose?”

He never had, that was the problem.

“I know you’re still interested. Satisfy my curiosity, I’ve never been with an allaghi before.”

Annoyed that John was swaying him with the sensual assault, Cam gave John a shove backwards. Any other man would have flown backwards, or at least stumbled from the force Cam put behind it, Sheppard merely took a step back. That gave Cam pause, and kept him from opening the door and tossing Sheppard out, as he had been planning to do.

“You wanna play rough?” Sheppard smirked and grasped Cam’s wrists, jerking him forward and taking his mouth in a rough kiss. The kiss, hardly romantic, turned into a contest of strength and will as they silently fought for dominance. Mitchell shoved at Sheppard, forcing him back step by step to the bed and toppling him backwards onto it. He followed, pinning him there. Thinking to give Sheppard a taste of what he was asking for, he twisted out of John’s grip, snapping his hands around and imprisoning John’s wrists, slamming them down onto the bed over his head.

He growled as he pressed in and nipped at John’s throat.

“Wolf kin?” John asked, turning his head and letting Cam bite his ear.

“No.”

Sheppard shimmied his hips slightly, rubbing against Cam. “Bear kin?”

“Nope.” Cam bit him again, sucking on the spot when John writhed against him and sighed in response. He’d found a Spot. He made a mental note of it, intending to come back there.

Seemingly unconcerned about being pinned to the mattress, Sheppard kept guessing, though his voice had gone husky and his breathing hitched now and again. “Not reptilian, are you? That might be a deal breaker. I have a thing about snakes.”

It was Cam’s turn to laugh. “No. Promise. No scales or fins, or feathers.”

“Take the fun out of guessing, why don’t you?” Sheppard complained mildly, without any heat. Releasing one of John’s wrists, Cam slid a hand down to rub over his chest and stomach. “Rat kin?”

“Bigger.”

“Elephant?” Sheppard gasped as Cam’s wandering hand moved lower.

“Smaller.”

“Wildebeest!”

“Now you’re just being silly.” Cam growled, nipping at Sheppard’s throat.

John had managed to kick off his shoes and was running a foot up and down Cam’s calf and thigh. “Hhhm. I think I have it now. Cat kin.”

“Yup, you got it.” In response, John slid his hand around and touched his fingers to Cam’s ear. “If you rub behind my ears, I will bite you, unpleasantly.”

Sheppard waggled his finger near Cam’s nose. “Bad kitty.”

“I am not a kitty.” Mitchell pushed up on his hands and glared down at Sheppard. And Sheppard just smiled at him.

**~*~**

Without an alarm to rouse him, John woke slowly, though it was still just about dawn, judging by the light as well as his internal clock. As he stretched, his foot bumped warm skin. Memory came flooding back. He was spooned up against Mitchell's chest, with a heavy arm pressed across his back, holding him. He could feel Cam's warm breath on his neck.

What in the hell had possessed him to act so rashly on that spark of infatuation he had picked up from Mitchell? His commanding officer!

What to do now? They'd both be in hot water for breaking regulations about a relationship within one's own chain of command, if someone at the SGC decided to make a stink about it. So long as they were out here in Pegasus, it would be okay. He had thought Cam was human. He wondered if the other allaghi on the base knew about Cam. Was Mitchell being protected by the city's cartel or the Fernal Branch? While John had no protection at all from the Fernal Branch of the military, he did have the base's cartel watching over him, thanks to his status as Stackhouse's Rider. The allaghi on the base only knew that Stackhouse wanted John protected, and that was all it had taken. Allaghi did not question the why of an order from their leader.

"Quit thinking so loudly," Cam mumbled, tightening his grip on John's waist as he shifted on the bed beside him. "You woke me up."

"I did not. You had to pee, that's why you woke up."

With an unhappy noise, Cam released his hold and rolled away. "Damn mind reader."

"Easy pickings," John called as the bathroom door shut behind Mitchell. Should he leave now, before Mitchell came back? The problem was, he didn't really want to. He liked Mitchell. Since Mitchell had taken command of the expedition, John had found him to be easy to get along with, friendly, and interesting to talk to. Their common background serving with the SGC had given them plenty to talk about. John had never expected to end up in bed with the man, however, so this was a completely new wrinkle.

He really wanted to stay. For once, he went against habit and he didn't bolt at the first opportunity to do so. He rolled onto his back and straightened out the sheets and blankets and smiled up at Mitchell when he came out of the bathroom.

"Wasn't sure you'd stay," Mitchell remarked as he dropped back onto the bed and got back under the covers.

"I wasn't sure that I would either," John admitted cautiously.

"Why did you?" Mitchell turned onto his side to face John, curling one arm up to pillow under his head.

Giving a loose shrug, John replied, "I'm not entirely sure. You're different."

"So are you."

His curiosity roused by his earlier line of thought, John ventured a question. "I really thought you were human, Mitchell. Does the cartel know about you?"

Mitchell shook his head. "No. Not that I'm aware of. I know who they are, I had a report, sent to me by someone from the Fernal Branch to keep me in the loop."

"Sent? Couldn't you just requisition it?"

"Hardly. I'm regular military, not Fernal Branch. My dad had connections in the Fernal Branch, they keep an eye out for me and occasionally do me a favor."

"You aren't Fernal Branch? How did you manage that?" John knew that he was an oddball, managing to maintain a military career outside the reach of the Fernal Branch, it surprised him that Mitchell did not report directly to them.

"I was dormant until the Antarctica battle. I only went active because of the injuries I got when I crashed. I went into the battle human and came out allaghi."

John nodded, he had read Mitchell's file, he knew about the crash and Mitchell's time with SG-1. Dormant traits would explain how a lion kin allaghi had managed to stay off the radar this long. John's road had been harder, trying to ditch the Fernal Branch deliberately to try to lead a 'normal' life without their interference.

"So you don't answer to Stackhouse?"

Mitchell grinned. "I don't answer to anyone. Hey, do you know what kin he is? It isn't in his records."

"I do, but that is his secret to tell." John sighed as Mitchell's hand moved and he caressed John's abdomen with his knuckles, in teasing, widening circles. "Why, Colonel Mitchell, are you making moves on me this morning?"

With a grin, Mitchell leaned against him. "We're both off duty today. Would such moves be appreciated or rejected?"

In answer, John leaned in and kissed Cam's lips. It was a sleepy, lazy good morning kiss, the kind of thing John was quite unaccustomed to taking the time to do. It felt good. It felt right. He sighed and relaxed as Mitchell pulled him into his arms and deepened the kiss.

**~*~**

With a sigh, Cam reached over and pulled a blanket over them as their bodies began to cool and John began to shiver. "What in the hell are we going to do now?" Cam whispered, his words echoing the thoughts that were sluggishly running through John's mind. "I think we crossed a line, I can feel you, John, in my head. I think you pushed it too far."

John had warned him of the danger, when Cam had pushed him to bite him and take his blood while they were both in the throes of passion, but Cam had been too far gone to pay attention.

"Think later," John replied, dopey and drunk on his blood. "Feel now," he mumbled, snuggling against Cam and resting his lips on Mitchell's throat. “Good Kittty.”

They could sort it out later.

**~*~**

The lights were dancing overhead, so John told Atlantis to turn them off. The fewer things to feed his senses, the better. There was still the constant hum of the city and the waves beyond the balcony, but the sound was not overwhelming him. His body was tingling, from scalp to toenails. He could hear the blood pumping through Cam's body beside him.

 _*John, what the hell did you do?*_ Stackhouse demanded, his mental voice a combination of irritation, amusement and curiosity. _*You are all over the place, you’re giving me a headache.*_

Caught off guard, John didn't mask his emotions or try to disseminate. He answered honestly. _*Fed off Mitchell.*_

Now there was astonishment in Stackhouse's reply. _*Dude! Are you insane?*_

*A little, I think, yeah. I ruined things, Nate. I screwed up. I turned him.*

Stackhouse snapped at him, _*Don't you dare cry, Rider mine. I swear, I cannot handle crying men. Is Mitchell still there?*_

*Yeah. And I wasn't gonna cry.*

*Do I need to send a medical team?*

Stackhouse was such a good friend. _*No, he's just sleeping. Can't you sense him?*_

*No, which is why I am talking to you. Are you sure he's ok, Sheppard?*

John stroked a hand over Cam's head, feeling each hair as it tickled across his palm. _*No. Not anymore. I turned him.*_

*You what? Damn it, John! I'm coming down there.*

It was too late. And Cam seemed okay. And John didn’t feel like dealing with Nate at the moment. _*No. Don't. He's just sleeping. I rushed things, Nate, in the heat of the moment.*_

*I'm not arguing with you on that. Damn, I'm getting buzzed off your mental fumes, Sheppard.*

John didn't respond to that. After a while he asked, _*What do I do now?*_

_*I have no idea. I guess we just make the best of it. Help him through the adjustment. I have to block you out right now, John. You’re overwhelming me. I'm on duty tomorrow and I need to sleep. Radio me if you need me, okay?*_

*Okay. Goodnight. You're a good friend, Nate.*

*I try. Goodnight, John. Try to sleep.* It was if a switch had been flipped, one moment, Nate was there and in the next, John couldn't feel him at all. For the first time in all the years since they had bonded, Nate was deliberately blocking him, keeping them separated. John felt a bit bereft. He hugged Mitchell closer.

Every once in awhile, Cam let out a little groan and twisted in John's arms, but for the most part, he slept pretty soundly over the next few hours as John alternated between drowning in sensory overload and mentally beating himself up for what he had let himself be talked into. It was hard to think straight, he was almost overcome by the hormones and blood coursing through him, and his senses were too sharp.

Mentally, he kept coming back to the same point; no matter what Cam said, John knew he had rushed into this. He should have waited. He had let bloodlust rule his head.

And now Cam was paying the price, he was haima now, there was no undoing what had been done tonight. John had not scented another of his kind in years, not since long before the first Atlantis Expedition. His nose was filled with haima now, pressed against him, breathing against his neck. He was totally and completely responsible for changing Cam's life, in the same way Patrick Sheppard had changed his. Would Cameron end up hating him the way John had come to hate Patrick?

"It is not all your fault, stop feeling so guilty," Cam mumbled and gave John's shin a thump with his foot. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine!"

Cam pushed away from him and sat up. He weaved in place for a moment, throwing a hand out to balance himself on John's shoulder. "Whoa. Spinny." He let out a laugh. "I can see in the dark!"

John watched as Cam held his hands out in front of him and turned them back and forth waggling his fingers. "Yeah, haima night vision. Better than military issued goggles, huh?"

"You sound drunk, you're slurring your words."

"I am. I took too much blood from you. But I don’t feel so good."

"No?"

"No. My stomach hurts. I don't want to move, I'm afraid I'm going to throw up if I do."

Cam leaned in and stroked a hand over his cheek. "Do you want me to call Doctor Beckett?"

Shaking his head, John squeezed his eyes shut, the room was, as Cam had said, spinny. "No."

"My stomach hurts too. And I'm dizzy." Cam flopped down beside him, jostling the mattress. John let out a groan.

"Shit! I'm stupid. I'm feeling your symptoms." John rubbed a hand over his forehead. The blood and hormone high was making him dumb. Like Nate, he was being affected by Cam's physical state through their bond. He was just about to block Cam out, as Nate had done to him earlier, but he realized he wouldn't know what was going on with him if he did that, and he was responsible for Cam, he had done this to him.

He reached an arm out and pulled Cam up against him. "Be a good kitty and lie still. You're making the world spin."

Cam grasped his hand and slid it down to his middle. "Rub my belly?" His coordination was a little off at first, but John found a pattern and rubbed his palm across the warm skin in circles. When Cam purred, he smiled and kissed the back of his head. He fell asleep holding Mitchell.

When he woke, the sun was making the room unbearably bright. He yelped and fumbled a hand around to find a pillow, which he dragged over his face. He was alone in the bed. The daytime city noise was unbearable loud.

"Head still bad?" Cam asked quietly, his hand touching John's arm very lightly.

"It's going to explode," he said into the pillow.

Cam patted his hip and pulled the blanket aside, letting in a cool draft. "Roll over. Doctor Beckett left some stuff that should help." Keeping the pillow pressed tightly to his face, John moved and a moment later he smelled alcohol, felt a cool swipe on his skin and then the pinch of a needle.

"What is that?"

"A cocktail for your hangover. The doc was a bit put out that you didn't call him when you figured out what happened to me." Cam rubbed his ass and then dragged a blanket over him.

In his defense, he had been, and still was, inebriated. John pulled the pillow away and squinted up at Cam, who seemed perfectly normal. "Kitty, how are you functional?"

"I didn't suck down any unfiltered hormones last night. And Beckett dosed me with some stuff to ease the transition."

Mental speech didn't hurt as much. _*So you're okay?*_

*I'm fine, John,* came the instant reply. Mitchell wasn't lying, it was extremely difficult to lie when sharing thoughts directly. John's worry eased slightly. _*Stackhouse came by and gave me the once over when Doc Beckett was through. Stop worrying, John.*_

*You're going to hate me, when this all settles down.*

Cam grabbed his foot through the blanket and squeezed it, giving it a shake. "Who knew you were such a drama queen? Knock it off. I've been testing my senses, and so far, I don't feel too much different than I did when I was in other form. Now I don’t have to switch forms to use them. Enhanced scent, strength, and hearing. My vision is different though, that is taking some getting used to. The auras spooked me until Stacks told me what it was I was seeing."

The drugs started to take effect, and John was able to pull the pillow away and hug it to his chest. Cam’s aura was a healthy, swirling purple and blue. "Hey, Kitty? Try something for me?"

"What? Are you going to keep calling me Kitty?"

"Maybe. Try to shift. I want to know what happens, now that you're haima. How your allaghi physiology, or what’s left of it affects things."

Cam tilted his head and looked at John, then he nodded. "Okay." He squeezed his eyes shut. A moment later they flew open and he breathed, "Oh, wow."

John sat up, concerned as Cam’s aura suddenly took on red and orange swirls. He teetered and nearly fell over as his head swam. "What?"

"Wait," Cam replied and closed his eyes again and took a deep breath. As John watched, Cam began to shift into leonine form. Muscles rippled and lengthened, tawny fur appeared on his skin and his face changed into the lion-like one John had only seen once before. When the change was complete, Cam loomed at the foot of the bed, panting heavily, fully in his other form.

"This is impossible," John whispered, walking to the end of the bed on his knees. He put a hand out to touch Cam's chest. "You're still the same kitty, Kitty." Mitchell's form had not changed from the one he had shown John the night before.

A somewhat astonished Mitchell was holding his arms out in front of him, turning them and looking at his shifted form. _*Well I'll be. Has anyone ever turned an allaghi before?*_

John shrugged and fell back on the bed, sure that he was smiling like an idiot. _*Damned if I know. I don't talk to the family much, and no one but a Stoker ever writes things down.*_ He watched Cam stride back and forth, flexing his muscles, doing a thorough self examination. John grinned as a random thought occurred to him. _*Hey, I bet you can even give Ronon a run for the money now. I can almost take him - but now you can pound him into the mat for sure!*_

_*You are still under the influence, you're being goofy.*_

_*I'm off duty today, remember? I'm allowed to be goofy. You don't hate me?*_

Hate him? Cam looked from his fur covered hands over at John. How was he going to convince John that he was okay with this? He strode to the bed and leaned over, brushing his nose and whiskers across John's cheek. Then he rubbed his head against his neck, purring loudly when John turned his face and buried his nose into his fur.

Kisses were awkward in this form, the rubbing would have to do. “I won't hate you, John. I like you, a lot," he rumbled, his voice deeper in timbre when he was in this form.

John's eyes were very glassy and unfocused. He reached up with both hands and scratched Cam's ears. When he began to shiver, Cam gathered him close and carefully pulled him down onto the mattress, reaching for the blanket to pull it over both of them. _*Close your eyes and count sheep, Sheppard. You've OD'd on Mitchell goodness. You need to sleep it off.*_

“I don’t like taking hormones and blood together, I’m not doing that anymore,” he vowed in a small voice as he snuggled in and let Cam hold him.

_*Maybe later you can have your way with me.*_

John yawned and stopped fighting the need to rest. _*Stay in this form until I wake up?*_

*Sure. You sleep for a while.*

The emotions coming off John as he settled down and did as Cam suggested were much lighter than they had been. It seemed that Cam's ability to shift into his allaghi form, despite being turned haima had relieved Sheppard of some of the mental weight that had been burdening him.

**~*~**

Nate sat in the mess hall, close to the door, waiting for Mitchell to turn up. He wanted to talk to him, had tried to talk to him twice since John had turned him. The morning after, Mitchell had been loopy as all hell and incapable of carrying on a conversation. His second day as a haima he had spent working, closed up in his office, dealing with Ladon Radim and the issues that had come along with an influx of Genii refugees, fleeing their homeworld.

As for John, Nate was still actively blocking his thoughts and emotions. His Rider was currently ensconced in Mitchell's darkened quarters, avoiding contact with people and swearing up and down never to "do hormones" again. Just the bleed out over the edges from the overload was too much for Nate to take, he was surprised John could communicate at all.

Thus, he had no idea how his friend was faring. _*How's John?*_ he asked as soon as Colonel Mitchell walked through the doors of the mess hall with Major Lorne at his heels.

Mitchell's step didn't falter at the touch of Nate's mind. It had been a test, to see what his reaction would be at the mental ambush. Nate was old and easily bored, he liked amusing himself with little things like that.

 _*He's still sleeping. He won't eat. I'm giving him one more day before I haul him off to the infirmary for an IV.*_ Mitchell walked past him with a nod of greeting then headed off to get some food. He returned with a tray and he and Lorne sat at the table, Mitchell taking the seat directly across from Nate.

 _*And how are you?*_ Nate asked telepathically, then turned to nod at Lorne. "Hello Major."

"Stackhouse. How's the chili?"

"Canned," he replied, pulling a face, which Lorne mimicked as he stirred the cup on his tray and regarded it with open hostility.

Mitchell answered him as Nate watched Lorne attack the chili. _*I'm okay. The vision thing is still a little freaky, I never knew there was a whole spectrum of colors I wasn't seeing.*_ The best part about a telepathic conversation at lunch was that you could talk with your mouth full and still be understood. Mitchell chewed his sandwich as he answered Stackhouse's question. _*Are you still keeping John out?*_

*Yeah, I was getting a migraine. There's sharing and there's over sharing. I'm gonna leave this particular experiment in fernal dynamics and tolerances all to Sheppard.*

*He misses you. He hasn't said it in so many words, but every time he wakes up he mentions that he doesn't feel you and that it's weird.*

Nate nodded. He felt the absence of his Rider acutely. *Yeah, I know the feeling.*

With a snort, Lorne stared across the table at Nate and then glared at Mitchell. "No fair, you guys are head talking."

"Sorry, that is kinda rude, isn't it? What's come out of the interviews with the Genii civilians, anything of note?" Cam asked Lorne.

The question seemed to mollify the Major's pique at being left out of the other conversation. Quietly, though there was no one within hearing distance, Lorne told them, "It might be the Pegasus version of stoicheo, based on the accounts of what people saw and the way things went down."

That caught Stackhouse's attention. "Wings, water or fire?"

"It might be all three, given the way some of the houses were destroyed. Inexplicable fires, sudden bursts of wind and a few flooded out, all without storms or apparent cause."

Nate leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "It makes sense. Historically, when there's been a major desecration of their land, stoicheo have attempted to make repairs."

"Yeah, ecological disasters bring them out of the woodwork," Mitchell agreed. "And Genii is a mess after years of irresponsible radiation experimentation."

Lorne leaned in over the table. "I'm surprised there are any fernal still on the planet, honestly."

In the years since coming to Pegasus, they had learned that Pegasus boasted a population of fernal that was quite possibly larger than the human population, the various societies having gone underground to avoid the war between the Ancients and the Wraith. On most of the planets they had visited, the fernal races were more segregated than on Earth and rarely communicated with each other.

John had arranged the Gate Teams years ago so that each had at least one allaghi, since of any of their fernal population, the allaghi had the best chance of sniffing out any fernal that might be within range of the Stargate. Thus far, in five years, they had only been able to establish frequent contact with three eneio of galpen, the Pegasus equivalent to their allaghi cartels.

"What do we do about the Genii homeworld, Colonel?" Stackhouse asked.

Tapping his chin with one finger, Mitchell considered the question. "I think maybe we should send Lorne and AG-2 to investigate."

Lorne grinned. "Let Boom-Boom try to talk to her Pegasus cousins?"

"If any of our people has even a remote chance of coaxing these Genii elementals out, it's Cadman," Stackhouse said with an approving nod.

"Then we have a plan. Back to the grind for us, Lorne, I'll talk to you later, Nate," Mitchell said as he collected his empty tray and left the table.

Stackhouse waved to them. _*Later, Kitty.*_

**~*~**

Still dressed in his off world gear, Lorne rushed into Mitchell's office, dancing from foot to foot in excitement as he stood in front of Mitchell's desk.

"What?" Cam asked finally, finishing typing his thought and saving his document.

The major held up something wrapped in gauzy rags and then passed it over the desk to him. "I traded one of the stoicheo for that."

"So you made contact?" Cam asked as he unwrapped the fabric.

"Yup. Just as we had thought, several clans of them banded together to try to clean up the mess the humans made of Genii. Cadman even shifted form to show off her wings. I think she was enjoying the attention of their fire makers." When Cam looked up, Lorne amended, "Their young, healthy, single, quite pretty, male fire makers."

Cam laughed at Lorne's emphasis on the words single and male. The object he revealed was a pouch, made up of several pieces of a hard shell-like material, held together by rings drilled through holes at the edges. He opened it to see that it was lined with a canvas-like material. Quite sturdy as well as being ornate. The plates, when Cam tilted the pouch in the overhead light,were an overall greenish-brown color and had an iridescent sheen to them. His new haima enhanced vision let him see swirls and variations of other colors on the surface.

His new senses told him something else. He looked up at Lorne in surprise. "These pieces came off a living creature."

"I wondered if you would be able to figure that out." Lorne had been let in on Cam's change in physiology, one of only a handful of people that had known Cam's form before, Cam had felt it prudent to let him know about the change.

"What is it?"

"If the guy I traded with can be believed, that is made from the scales of a creature that we would have called First Kin."

 _*Stackhouse, come to my office, Lorne brought back something you should see,*_ Cam called, letting the urgency seep into his words.

_*On my way.*_

Cam turned the pouch over in his hands, running his finger over the smooth texture of the hard plates. He raised it to his nose and sniffed, but only got a hint of something herbal that might have been carried within the pouch. "Did he tell you how he came by the pouch?"

"He traded for it, with stoicheo travelers, a few years ago. If this is true, do you know what this means, Colonel? It means that it's possible that all the First Kin didn't die out in Pegasus like they did back home!" Lorne's eyes were shining with excitement. If only he knew the truth! But Stackhouse's secret was not Cam's to share. "There could be dragons out here somewhere, Colonel!"

Inexperienced in judging the age of scents, even using allaghi skills, Cam couldn't be sure if the scales in his hand were a decade old or a century old. "I'm not sensing any emotional resonance off this."

"The guy didn't seem particularly attached to it, he traded it quickly enough for a box of graham crackers, a bag of marshmallows and a six pack of Hershey bars."

Stackhouse came into the office in time to hear the last of Lorne's words. "You traded s'mores for something?"

With a grin, Lorne tipped his head towards the object in Mitchell's hands. "Yeah, a stoicheo with a sweet tooth gave me that."

Holding up the pouch, Mitchell waggled it. “Your opinions on this, please?” He somewhat reverently passed it over to the First Kin.

"Oh, wow!" Stackhouse breathed, running a hand over the scales. When he looked over at Cam, there was astonishment in his eyes and Cam felt an upsurge of hope through their bond. "Drakon," he whispered with longing.

Lorne nodded excitedly. "That is what the guy said. He called them chimarie. But from the description, it sure as hell sounded like a dragon to me."

"These are from two different adult females, old ones, judging by the thickness and color. Probably related, since the colors are almost the same. Maybe sisters, or a mother and daughter."

Cam tilted his head and asked, "Color?"

"Females are almost always a color that can blend in for camouflage. It's the males that come in technicolor." He grinned and bounced the pouch in his hand.

Stackhouse held the pouch to his nose and inhaled just as Cam had done. "Ten, maybe twelve years shed, not more than that," Nate said with a small smile. In a quick motion that Cam almost missed, Nate's tongue darted out and he licked across the three scales that made up the pouch. "These were shed naturally, there was no trauma, it was taken from a live drakon, not a corpse, and not with violence. There would be negative resonance, were that the case."

Standing stock-still, Lorne's jaw had dropped and he was staring at Stackhouse in amazement. Cam warned him, _*You're outing yourself, Nate. Our Lorne isn't a fool, he's going to put two and two together any second now.*_

Nate nodded. _*John's been after me to tell him anyway. He trusts him. It's just hard to break the habit. That would make five people that know about me, all in one place. And two learning in the space of one week. I think it has been at least a hundred years since I've had that many confidants at once.*_

Aloud, Nate said, "Twelve years is the blink of an eye to a drakon. These are probably still alive somewhere. We have to find out where these scales came from and find the drakons."

"How do you know all that, Nate? I've been obsessed with First Kin since I was a kid, I couldn't have told you any of that information off the top of my head like you just did."

Nate smirked. "Family secret."

"I'll trade you a tracking on that pouch for the secret," Lorne pointed to the scale bag.

Nate's eyes almost bugged out of his head. "You can track from this? You can find the drakons that dropped these scales?"

Lorne reached out and took the pouch and gave Stackhouse a confident grin. "I always find what I'm looking for. The planet the stoicheo traders came from is called Ismenos. I'm sure we can find it in the Ancient database and get a Gate address."

"If not, Ronon might have heard of it," Cam added.

"I never thought to see the day," Nate said quietly, shaking his head as he stared at the pouch in Lorne's hand.

"What day?" Lorne asked.

Stackhouse gave Evan a wide smile. "When I'd meet another drakon."

"You're... are you trying to tell me that you're First Kin?"

Nate nodded. "Yeah, I was trying to tell you exactly that. So do we have a trade? I'd really like to find these Pegasus drakon."

Wide-eyed, Lorne nodded. "I thought your people were... gone."

"Almost. There are only nine left on Earth that I know of, all of us males, the last female died on the nest seven years ago. There hasn't been a hatching in four centuries. Once we ruled the skies, and now, we hide."

"I'm sorry," Lorne whispered.

"So am I. I would be in your debt, Major, if you could lead me to some others." Stackhouse swallowed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I think I'm going to go check on John. I'll see you later."

Stackhouse turned and left the room, and Cam sensed that he was attempting to squelch down a variety of powerful emotions. _*Hey, you okay?*_

*Yeah, just trying not to get my hopes up, you know?*

Cam understood. _*Yeah. I have faith in Lorne's ability as a vreite. If there are others out there he will find them, now that he has the scent in his nose. Hey, if you can get John to wake up, see if you can get him to eat something.*_

There was humor in Nate's reply. _*I'll do that, I'll bring bacon and wave it under his nose. Even hungover, John can't resist bacon.*_

*Can I ask you something?*

*Sure, Kitty, hit me.*

*The whole sacrificial virgins thing? Did that really happen? Did First... drakons eat virgins?*

More humor. _*Nah. Unless they were virgin pigs. As I just told you, very few creatures can resist bacon.*_

**~*~**

"Ow," John complained when Cam opened the door to his quarters and strode in, bouncing a tuna salad sandwich wrapped in cellophane in his hand. "Light."

"How much longer are you going to hibernate in here? It's been four days, Sheppard. Get up and eat, I brought you a sandwich." He stood at the foot of the bed and waited. If John didn't get up, he was dragging him down off the mattress, throwing him over one shoulder and taking him to the infirmary.

John sat up and gave him the stink eye. "That won't be necessary. I'm up, damn it. I'm fine, I don't need to see Carson."

"Finally." Cam tossed the sandwich at him. Nodding in approval when John opened the wrapper and began to eat. "How much longer before you'll be up to working, Sheppard? I need you on this away mission."

Swallowing the bite in his mouth, John rolled his shoulders. "I'm ready now. What mission?"

"While you've been up here with the covers over your head, the rest of us have been following up on leads about the drakon. Teyla and Ronon concur about the place to start, the planet we think is Ismenos. I want you with Lorne on this, I've heard he can get a little spacey when he's following a trail and I don't want anything to happen to him, especially on a mission for personal reasons, like this one happens to be."

Nodding in agreement, John smirked lightly. "Yeah, he walks into walls when he zones out on a hunt. I'll be fine, dark sunglasses and Excedrin should get me through."

Relieved, Cam patted John's arm. "That's what I wanted to hear. You can sleep late tomorrow, the mission is scheduled to leave at eleven."

**~*~**

"This is where the market usually is, when I have come here in the past," Teyla said, waving her hand at the large clearing as they came out of the trees after walking the trail that led from the Gate.

Adjusting his sunglasses, John looked around, disappointed. "Nobody here now."

"It is not yet time for the harvest," Teyla replied. "The people will not come for several months."

Turning a circle, Lorne had his eyes squeezed shut, his forehead creased in concentration.

"Anything?" Ronon said, standing close at Lorne's shoulder. Mitchell had asked him to keep a close eye on Evan while he worked with his fernal senses, and he was taking the request seriously.

"Maybe we should have brought a jumper," John remarked. "Done a flyover."

That provoked a grunt and frown from Lorne. "I can't sense anything from the jumper."

"Well, you can't sense anything if there isn't anyone around for hundreds of miles, now can you?" John snapped, rubbing at his forehead. The sunlight was bright.

 _*If you're going to be snippy, we can do this without you. It was Mitchell's idea for you to come. I don't need you along pissing in my bowl of happy cornflakes,*_ Stackhouse shifted his P-90 and glared at John.

John met Nate's glare and then turned to Lorne. "Sorry, Evan. I'm still a little out of sorts, I guess. Can you sense anything?"

"Tickles. No definite direction yet,” Lorne shrugged. “I thought maybe there might be a trail, but it’s too old, it’s been too long since anyone was here, the auras have all degraded away to almost nothing.

Stackhouse sighed and began shrugging out of his pack. “Ever ridden a horse, Lorne?”

“Yeah, when I was a kid I went on some pony rides at the carnival.”

Stripping off his jacket, Stackhouse dropped it on top of his pack, then sat on the ground and began unlacing his boots. “I wouldn't worry, Sheppard won’t let you fall.”

“Let me fall?” Lorne’s eyebrows went up in surprise as he realized why Stackhouse was stripping out of his clothing. “You’re going to shift, here?”

Sheppard hauled Stackhouse up by the arm and clad only in his boxers, Nate smirked at the Major. “Well, you can’t track from a ‘jumper and obviously, we need to cover a lot of ground, if you're going to do your thing.”

“I don’t know about this,” Lorne said, taking a step backwards and bumping into Ronon.

“I won’t let you fall,” John said, reiterating Nate’s words.

“Will Major Lorne not be confused by your scent, Lieutenant Stackhouse?” Teyla asked.

Looking at Teyla, Nate tipped his head and turned to give Evan a curious look. “You CAN filter out known variables, can’t you?”

Mildly insulted, Lorne snorted. “Of course I can. It isn't the scent, it’s the aura I’m tracking. Scent obsessed allaghi, everything isn't always about the nose,” he grumbled the last, which made John and Nate laugh.

“Okay then, change of plan,” John said. “Teyla, Ronon, you guys head back to base and report in. Tell Mitchell we needed to fly.” Ronon growled and then frowned and took a step closer to Lorne. “I’ll keep an eye on him, Ronon." John said in a mildly coaxing voice. Nate can’t carry three and I have to translate for Evan when Nate’s in his other form.”

Teyla put a hand on Ronon’s arm. “We shall return with a puddlejumper.” She tugged on Ronon’s arm, but he refused to move. She sighed, released her hold and began to gather Stackhouse’s gear. She tucked his socks in his boots, tied his bootlaces together and looped the boots through one strap of the pack.

“After they go,” Ronon tossed his chin in John’s direction.

“You’re gonna shred your shorts again,” John called cheerily as Nate began walking off towards the field. When Lorne started after him, John grabbed his sleeve and shook his head. It took a lot of room for Nate to change forms.

“I’m not walking around bare-assed and giving you guys a show,” Stackhouse replied without looking back.

John stifled a laugh when he thought he heard Lorne mumble, “Pity.”

“John, I have been curious about something,” Teyla said as she handed Nate’s backpack to Ronon and held his clothing folded over her arm. “When Lieutenant Stackhouse is in his human form, where does all the mass of his other form go?”

“The way it was explained to me was that allaghi exist on two planes at once. When they shift forms here, the other is on the other plane. Does that jive with what you know, Lorne?” It felt good to talk freely about Allos, the fernal world, without constantly looking over his shoulder.

Lorne nodded. “Yup. The other plane is a void, there’s nothing there, Chuck told me once that it’s like being in stasis.”

Over in the field, Nate had dropped to all fours and gave an incoherent shout. Though he braced himself for it, John was still driven to his knees by the pain leaking through their link as Nate shifted form. He waved off his companion’s concern and helping hands as he concentrated on sending soothing and drawing off some of the pain through the link to Stackhouse as he switched forms.

In about the length of time it took to dial up the Gate, John’s radio squawked, Mitchell’s voice coming through. “Mitchell to AG-1. What the hell is going on?” Apparently, he had picked up on their painwhen the Gate had been opened.

Hunched over in pain, gasping and panting, John was almost incapable of speech, though he flailed a hand up in an attempt to answer Mitchell’s question. Teyla caught John’s hand and squeezed it tightly as she took the call. “Lieutenant Stackhouse is in a bit of distress. Colonel Sheppard is attempting to assist,” Teyla explained, keeping it vague in case anyone that was not fernal was listening in.

“Damn it. Do we need to send a medical team?” Nate was through the hardest part of the change, and John was able to breath again. He shook his head at Teyla.

“No, Colonel Mitchell, they appear to be fine. But if you could send a puddlejumper, we need to search further afield than we had planned. Perhaps Lieutenant Edison is available?” John was relieved that Teyla was on the ball, she had suggested one of the pilots she knew to be fernal. Edison was water stoicheo, Teyla had worked with him on several missions in the past, and he had been accidentally outed to her on one of those missions, when he had saved her from drowning.

There was a pause as Mitchell processed the request on the other end. “Gotcha. It’ll be crowded, so I’ll send Edison out alone. How are they doing?”

“Oh. My. God,” Lorne whispered, staring at Stackhouse with his jaw hanging open. "That is... the most awesome being I have ever laid eyes on."

“Cool, huh?” Ronon said, slapping Lorne’s shoulder heartily.

John put a hand up and Ronon pulled him to his feet, just as Stackhouse let out a bellowing roar and flapped his wings. “We’re fine. We’ll call later. Sheppard out,” John replied in a rush and disconnected the transmission before the mic picked up Stackhouse’s happy caterwauling at he rolled in the field and grew re-accustomed to his other form. It had been a couple of months since he had an opportunity to change.

“C’mon, we better go, before Edison gets here.” John grasped Lorne’s sleeve and yanked him along as he started towards Nate.

“So big. You said... but I didn’t expect... so friggin’ huge!” Lorne stumbled a bit as he tried to take in Nate’s whole length. The golden scales on his hide caught the sunlight, reflecting it like tiny mirrors.

As they got closer, Nate swung his head around until he was nose to nose with Sheppard. John reached up and began to scratch at a spot just above Nate’s jaw. He tilted his head and let out a huge sigh, which sounded like an echo in an empty drum. “‘What are you doing, Sheppard?” Lorne asked as John moved a hand over the ridge of Nate’s nose and up over one eye.

“He’s itchy,” Sheppard said with a smirk. In an undertone, he whispered to Lorne, "He's kinda like a big cat when he's in this form."

"So you have two of them?"

John smiled. "Yeah, I guess I do. Go figure. I always considered myself more of a dog person."

Nate swung his head around and let out a huge huff with his nostrils, forcing John to take a step back. John patted his nose. "I like you better than dogs, Nate. We need to move. where’s the worst of the itching?” There was always itching with the changeover. He slid his hand up and rubbed the scales near one ear as Nate tilted his head towards him. Then he stretched out to let John straddle his neck. John reached out, caught Lorne by the forearm and hauled him up after him. “Okay?” John asked as Evan threw his arms around his waist.

“As I ever will be. Let’s go.”

They could feel the muscles rippling beneath the thick layers of scales and hide. Nate began to beat his wings as he took a few lumbering steps across the grass. And then he leapt at the sky and they were up.

“Direction?” John called over his shoulder. Lorne had to press close to hear him. He pointed to the north and Stackhouse banked gracefully. John had his toes hooked under the edge of one of the larger scale plates where Nate’s neck met his torso. It had taken a few tries to figure out just how to place himself so that his seat was secure while at the same time, he avoided hurting Nate.

He glanced down and back, but could not see another foothold in the scales close enough for Lorne to set his feet, so he’d have to maintain the death grip he had on John’s waist. _*Do you sense anything?*_ John asked Nate after they had left the field far behind and soared towards a mountain range in the distance.

_*Don’t you? I hear songs in the wind.*_

*Do you really or are you just being a big, giddy dork again?* Being in this form tended to make Nate a bit punch drunk until he’d had a chance to work off the energy and excitement. It was a big body, there was a lot of energy to burn off. It was the most annoying when he sang show tunes for hours at John as they flew, like a radio station he couldn’t switch off. Who knew a hetero dragon-kin would be into the best of Broadway and the West End?

_*Really. To the north. Listen.*_

John closed his eyes and little by little accounted for every noise and was able to ignore them one by one, letting it all fade to the background. The strident motions of Nate’s wings, the wind whistling past them, the beat of Nate's heart, Lorne’s breathing, his own blood rushing in his ears; all faded to the background. And then he heard it, the sound of numerous voices coming from a great distance. _*I hear.*_

He almost swooned from the backlash of happy emotions coming from Nate in waves. _*I never thought I’d hear that again,*_ Nate purred into John’s mind.

_*Is it drakon singing?*_

*No, they’re pritchio. They died out centuries ago on Earth. They’re insects, big as birds, they follow drakon and pick stuff out from under scales. Kinda like tick birds and rhinos. And their wings hum and send out that music you’re hearing.* Stackhouse’s mind-voice was heavily saturated with emotion.

Lorne let go with one arm to bat John on the shoulder excitedly. “A little to the west now,” he shouted when John turned to look at him. John nodded and relayed the change in direction to Nate.

“Hold on!” John called, reaching up with one hand to grasp Lorne’s arm where it was wrapped around his middle. He pressed his knees tightly to keep his seat as Nate dipped to one side to turn.

There was a gasp near his ear and then Evan was laughing as they straightened out again. Of course he was enjoying himself, he was a pilot too. How could he help but love this freedom of flight without the confines of a ship or plane around him? Lorne gave a whoop of delight as Nate dove and pulled up, showing off a little for their passenger. “Don’t encourage him!” John called when Evan dug his knees in and laughed again. "He'll start performing like a circus pony!'

They flew for a while longer, leaving the sound of pritchio behind. _*I hope the silence doesn't portend a failed mission.*_

*It doesn't,* John reassured Nate with a hard pat to his hide. _*Lorne’s got something, we're on the right track.*_

Sober now, Nate replied, _*I hope not a dead something. It could be a dead something, which would explain why the pritchio aren’t clustered around.*_

*Stop that,* John scolded, just as Evan pointed past his shoulder.

“That way. In the valley, I think.” He quickly dropped his hand and wrapped his arm back around John's waist.

 _*Head for the valley, Lorne says,*_ John told Nate.

Stackhouse dropped a few hundred feet, bringing them closer to the ground so that John could get a visual while on their approach to the valley. Stackhouse’s vision in this form was far less acute, he relied on John, his Rider, to watch the ground as they flew.

“Yeah, straight ahead,” Lorne said near John’s ear.

 _*We should probably keep an eye out for guards. Drakon back home tend to be isolationists, always were, it might be a trait endemic to our kind,*_ Nate suggested as he dropped lower, almost to the top of the treeline.

John saw motion on the hillside a moment too late. There was a whistling noise and then he looked down to see an arrow protruding from his chest. “Fuck,” he muttered, just as the pain started.

_*JOHN?!?*_

A second arrow pierced his left side. Rolling to the side and almost dislodging his wounded rider and passenger, Nate gave a bellow of outrage and dropped down into the trees, crashing through branches as Lorne held onto John, somehow keeping him upright as they landed hard and ungracefully on the forest floor.

“Off,” John hissed, throwing himself to the right and taking Evan with him as he slid off to the ground. He managed to land on his feet, but stumbled sideways a few steps, grasping the end of the arrow in his side and yanking it out, which started blood flowing out through the hole in his shirt, over the hand he pressed to the wound.

Behind him, Stackhouse screamed out, sharing the pain with John as Lorne caught him and guided him to his knees. When Lorne saw that Nate had begun to shift forms he yelled out, “Wait!”

John caught his arm and gasped out. “Stacks... needs to shift... safer... human... on the ground. I can’t protect...” he slumped forward into Lorne’s arms, his vision going black.

**~*~**

Changing back to human form was not as painful as the switch to drakon had been, but he cried out anyway as he shared in John’s pain. This was the worst case scenario; losing a Rider like this, sharing a battle injury. Nate shook his head, trying to clear it of the mess muddling his thoughts. Whomever had taken that shot had known the best way to incapacitate both Rider and mount.

Naked, his body thrumming from head to foot with pain and rage, he scrambled to John’s side. Lorne had already divested Sheppard of his tac vest and was peeling his shirt from the wound. Blood poured from the gaping wound in his side and seeped out around the second arrow that looked far too close to John’s heart to be safe. “John?” Nate whispered, clasping his cheeks. “Open your eyes! Look at me, John. What can I do?” John didn’t open his eyes, he was out cold.

He grasped the arrow where it met John’s chest, closing his hand over it. “What are you doing? No!” Lorne cried.

“I have to, his body will heal around it. He can’t heal properly with it inside him.” He leaned in and whispered, “I’m sorry John.” Then he pulled, and blood spurted up at him as the arrow came free. He eyed the tip with a snarl. “Thank heavens it isn’t barbed.”

The woods around them rustled and they were suddenly surrounded by two dozen archers, clad in an array of white and pastel toga-like garments, some wearing hooded short cloaks, almost all holding bows at the ready. “Step back from the abomination,” the one that stepped out from the others commanded. He had sandy colored hair and brown eyes and he addressed Nate directly.

“He is my Rider, how dare you cut down what is mine!” Nate called, refusing to stand. He pressed both hands to the open wound, applying pressure.

“Not the Kizal, the other one, the mixed blood,” the man pointed his arrow at Lorne and stared with open hostility. “We do not allow the impure within our Valley.”

Lorne sighed and stepped away from John, holding his hands up. He was half vreite and half kleftis, he was quite used to being shunned for his kleftis nature. Surreptitiously, Lorne had tapped his comlink open. Nate had heard the static of the com connecting and then Teyla’s voice, acknowledging that they were receiving. “We need an extraction,” Lorne said into the mic pickup. To the guards converging on them, Lorne said, “I’ll leave. There’s no need for further violence. I’ll take my injured friend and we’ll go.”

They stopped and looked at eachother, then all looked to the one that must be the leader, the one holding an ornately carved bow in his hand. “You may leave, you must leave. The Kizel will be cared for. The one with faulty aim shall be punished,” the leader turned and glared at a young woman with dark, honey blonde hair that spilled from her dark hood and fell in waves to her waist. She was the sole guard not holding her bow with an arrow knocked to the string, her weapon hung loosely from her fingertips. She gulped and dropped her gaze to her feet.

The leader snapped his fingers and motioned her forward. “Make amends, offer your blood for the Kizel you have wronged, that his life might be spared. For the good of your cunae, make your peace with the goddess and let your life have some honor with the sacrifice.”

Shuffling forward, the girl knelt beside John and drew a knife with an ornately carved hilt from her belt. She raised it to her own throat, her hand shaking slightly as she touched the tip to her skin, holding the hilt in a tight grip, prepared to thrust it in. Realizing what she meant to do, Nate snapped a hand up and captured her wrist in an iron hold. “No. Not like that. You’ll die if you do it like that.”

She raised her gaze to look at Nate. He saw misery there, in the golden eyes. “That is the intent, Brother Wind Walker. I have offended, I must sacrifice for this life I have taken, I cannot dishonor my cunae. My comrades will make sure that my blood is offered, one way or another,” she whispered only loud enough for Nate to hear her. She had tattoos above her right eye and below her left, extending down her cheek in stylized swirls and vines in a pale ink that made it seem almost like brands.

“He doesn’t need that much, and he certainly won’t take it like this, at the cost of another's life," Nate replied in an undertone.

Turning her head, she dislodged the hood that had been draped over her head as she looked to the leader, glaring at her. She looked back to Nate helplessly. "It would be a dishonor not to follow through."

"The taking of a life would be a dishonor my Rider, my Kizel, could not live with. Give me your hand." Nate held his palm up and out. She gave him her hand, which was warm and tiny in his. He slid his fingers down and clasped her wrist. "And your blade."

He made a small cut across her wrist, about an inch long. As the blood welled up, he moved her wrist to John's mouth. "Hold your arm still." He cupped a hand under Sheppard's head and raised it. _*Drink, Sheppard!*_ he commanded as loudly as he could, intending to rouse his Rider if he could. This was eerily reminiscent of the day they had bonded. Sheppard woke, confused, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the light. He tried to push the bloody wrist from his mouth.

"Drink, Sheppard!" Nate commanded aloud for the benefit of those watching. Sheppard had lost his sunglasses in the fall. _*It's a ceremony thing. I have a feeling they'll slit this girl's throat if you refuse her blood.*_

*Damn it! I really don't need this. I'm flush, coming off that hormone binge. I'll be fine, the damned tip missed anything of importance. I was just stunned,* John complained, with enough strength that Nate was relieved, convinced that he would be all right.

Nate looked into his eyes and pleaded, _*Just fake it, there's something going on here, they were too quick to order her to spill her blood. I don't like the tension in the air.*_

Opening his eyes, John looked up at the girl for the first time. _*Shit, she's terrified, Nate.*_

*I know. She was ready to plunge the dagger into her own throat a minute ago.* Nate replied. John reached up and grasped the girl's hand, then pretended to suck noisily from her wrist.

"That is not what what she was to do, this is not proper," the brown haired man with the attitude snapped.

"This is the only way my Rider will feed. Since it is his life you meant to spare, should the offering not be made in a manner of my choosing, in our tradition? Or do you not honor the traditions of other nations here?" It was a bold accusation, calling the honor of strangers into question, but Nate didn't like the way the girl had been shoved forward so readily to die.

The man gnashed his teeth and resumed glaring at Lorne as if he were a dirty diaper left on his front porch.

"What is your name?" Nate asked the girl.

"Arihanna."

"That's lovely. "I'm Nate. My Rider is John." He patted John's belly and John growled at him.

There was a roar above and behind them and the puddlejumper appeared, following the path through the trees Nate had made as he crashed down through the branches. "That would be my ride!" Lorne called cheerfully, taking a few steps back away from the bow wielding, angry drakon.

The jumper landed and Ronon and Teyla were out and running towards them in a flash. Seeing all the blood, Ronon let out a roar and turned menacingly towards the armed guards.

"Ronon, hold!" Lorne ordered, when Ronon started forward towards the man easily identifiable as the leader by his stance and attitude.

A wave of whispers passed through them and Nate heard the word 'stelly' repeated a few times. "Another abomination! You surround yourself with the unclean, Brother Wind Walker!" the leader shouted at Nate, pointing his weapon at Ronon.

"Jykor is fervent in his beliefs in isolation and pure blood," Arihanna whispered, leaning closer to Nate, over John's body. “He does not like newcomers. Or anyone not Arept.”

Teyla had come to John and brushed his hair back from his face. John opened his eyes and looked up at her, giving her a wink. Teyla smiled in relief and then looked around at the assemblage. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise as she looked at Nate and gave him an up and down look. She tapped her radio. "Lieutenant Edison, would you bring Lieutenant Stackhouse's uniform and boots?" She smiled as she listened to the response.

Reminded of his state of undress, Nate looked down at himself and blushed. Edison couldn't come over fast enough with his uniform. Nate snatched it from the grinning Lieutenant's hand and stood, quickly stepping into his BDUs and yanking his black t-shirt over his head. Then he crouched down beside John again.

"Okay, you had enough. I don't want you overdoing it again, I'm not keen to share another one of your blood hangovers." He reached over and pulled Arihanna's arm from John's mouth.

John sat up, rubbing his hand over his chest, which was undoubtedly sore, though already healing. His pain level was low enough that he was able to shield Nate from it easily enough. "Lorne take Ronon and Edison, back to base, report in," John ordered, coughing as he raised his voice to a level loud enough to be heard.

"Colonel, should we not leave as well?" Teyla asked as Lorne backed away from the guards. Edison had turned and jogged back to the jumper after handing off Stackhouse's tac vest, boots and gunbelt to Teyla.

John looked up at Nate. _*Maybe we should all go?*_

*I want to get to the bottom of this bullshit. That Jykor is still looking like he means to hurt Arihanna. I want to know why. She has markings, John, in the ancient way. Only a few of them over there have them.*

*Are they all Drakon?*

*Definitely.*

"We'll stay, Teyla. I would like to meet our hosts. They seem a little tense with some of our party. We came all this way, it seems a shame not to see the valley." Sheppard smiled at the natives. Nate clasped John's hand and pulled him to his feet, which caused some more murmuring from the crowd. Didn't their haima heal quickly?

Arihanna was staring at John as well. "You are healed, Master Kizel?"

"Call me John, and I'll be fine." John glanced around and for good measure added, "You have strong blood, Arihanna."

"May our companion Teyla join us?" Nate asked, taking his tac vest from her and pulling it on.

Jykor waved one of the men forward and he walked a circle around Teyla, sniffing the air delicately. Teyla stood with her chin raised proudly , looking straight ahead. After staring at her for a moment, the man gave a reluctant nod and ran back to the treeline. "She may attend you."

Ronon had held his position, glaring at Jykor's men, as if daring them to advance another step, which they didn't. "Hey, Big Guy, go with Lorne," John called as Lorne reached the safety of the puddlejumper. Reluctantly, Ronon gave a last dirty look at the natives and jogged off to the jumper. They took off a minute later, heading back for the Gate.

"I am Nathan Stackhouse, Heir of the Central Aerie of Earth. I would like to speak to whomever is in charge in your Valley," Nate called. He didn't like Jykor, and he was quickly coming to the conclusion that the man felt the same way about him. The man almost sneered, but then seemed to remember his manners.

_*Heir... does that make you a prince or something?*_

*Shut up, Sheppard.*

"Come," Jykor said simply and most of the guards disappeared, leaving Jykor, the guy with the nose that had sniffed Teyla, the four guys that took up position at the front and back of the procession and Arihanna to walk along the trail that he pointed out. Jykor took the lead, distancing himself from them as much as possible.

Arihanna fell into step beside Nate. _*Are you able to mind speak?*_ Nate asked her.

She stumbled a step then turned to smile at him. _*Yes, though it is becoming a lost art in the Valley.*_

*Why?* John asked, butting in on the conversation.

 _*You shouldn't be able to do that!*_ Nate protested.

John shrugged and smirked over his shoulder. _*I sucked her blood. It's probably a temporary connection. I want to know the politics we're walking into, before it wears off. Why does this Jykor hate you so much, Arihanna?*_

*You are perceptive, Maste... John. Jykor abhors my kind, we represent the old ways. The Kizel have almost died out, few take riders when they take to the air now. Jykor and those of their so-called Path of Reason have convinced the young ones that bonding is a form of slavery and is wrong and dirty. They would have the Valley stripped of any but the Arept. They have slowly been eliminating my people, as well as our helpmates and friends over the past few years.*

*Did you fire the arrows?* John asked.

Her step faltered and she blushed guiltily. _*I did. Accept my sincerest and deepest apologies. Please believe that I did not intend to harm you, any of you. You were not my target.*_

"If not us, then who was your target?* Nate asked.

She sighed. _*I was sent to take Busrikt, the one that grovels at Jykor's heel. He is their finder, their sniffer, the one that ferrets out any not of true blood. He is the most dangerous to those not of pure Arept descent. I aimed for him when I saw that they meant to take you, Nate, I hoped the distraction would draw them off. But someone redirected my arrows after I had let fly.*_

*You were ready to die, you could have run,* Nate said gently.

_*I failed my mission and nearly killed your Kizel, a young and healthy Kizel at that. I deserved to die trying to heal him.*_

John rolled his eyes. Stupid martyr complexes. There must truly be few haima here, if she thought giving all her blood would be necessary to heel a pair of arrow punctures. _*I hope you're over that notion now,*_ John snapped. She blushed and nodded in response, pulling her cloak and hood closer around her.

The conversation paused as they came to a rope bridge and had to cross. John moved back in the line to walk close to Teyla. Should there be an 'accident' he could grab Teyla and turn a fall into a glide and keep the pair of them from being killed. Nate would probably be able to partially shift in midair, enough to get his wings, and though it would be a torturous process, he too could survive the fall into the chasm below them.

 _*How many Arept are there in the valley?*_ Nate asked when they had all crossed safely and were on their way along a path that was cut into a cliff face.

Arihanna looked thoughtful. _*Perhaps a thousand.*_

Nate's jaw dropped. _*A thousand. All here, in one place?*_

She smiled and shrugged. _*There is another settlement, across the sea, called Calipar. I do not know their numbers. But that is where the intolerance began, settlers came from there to spread their message here. Those of my clutch have no desire to go there. We still revere our helpmates, our Kizel and Linta. I miss the songs of the Linta, they have fled the Valley. I have heard rumors that across the sea, they slaughtered all the Linta and allowed a plague to kill their Kizel and all those of other blood.*_

Teyla had fallen back to walk beside Arihanna. "Do you know if there are others of your kind on other worlds?" she asked, though she could not have been following the telepathic conversation, her mind was obviously following the same train of thought as John and Nate's.

"I know of four worlds where Arept dwell, there may be others, though all remain quite securely hidden from the Wraith and rarely venture out by the Rings as they did in the ancient times."

Teyla smiled and looked at Nate, who was staring at Arihanna. John wondered if Teyla saw what he did, sensed through her weird Teyla senses what John had picked up through his bond with Stacks. Nate was smitten, completely. He was a knight on a mission to save the beautiful maiden and there wasn't a whole lot John could think of to dissuade him from the path. It had been ages since Nate had seen a female of his kind, was it any wonder he was crushing on the first he came across?

"Hey Nate... Prime Directive?" John made the Trek reference in a vain attempt to remind him that they didn't need to get involved. Nate's answer was to flip John the bird over his shoulder. John looked over at Teyla and shrugged. "I tried, you can tell Mitchell, you were a witness, I tried."

"The Lieutenant seems rather intent on being, what would you call it, a white knight on a shining steed?" Teyla asked.

"Close enough," John replied with a brisk nod.

**~*~**

Cam paced in his office, waiting for Lorne, Edison and Ronon to report in. There were protocols in place that had prevented him from diving through the Gate to get to Nate and John when he sensed that they were in pain. He had not been able to leave the city, with his Military Commander and Executive Officer both off world. He didn't feel the pain John and Nate must have been enduring, which he guessed was lucky, but he had known that his bondmates were in trouble. The knowledge was making Cam nuts.

"They were okay when we left," Lorne said as soon as he crossed the threshold with Ronon at his heels and Lieutenant Edison trailing along behind. Cam relaxed a little bit. Not a lot, but a little bit. "Colonel Sheppard ordered us back here."

"What happened?" he demanded.

"The Colonel was shot with two arrows by hostiles hidden in the woods. Lieutenant Stackhouse was tending to him when said hostiles came out of the woods and surrounded us. They do not like mixed blood fernal," Lorne said, thumping his chest with his thumb.

"Or me," Ronon added, grinning toothily. Ronon was a stelly, what Earth fernal would call athanata; an undying one. To 'kill' Ronon, one would have to first take his head then burn his corpse, or else he would eventually heal. He kept his nature a secret from almost everyone, as it tended to make people very, very nervous when they found out.

Mitchell looked over at Edison, knowing Lorne and Ronon were holding back because of Stackhouse's nature, still a secret from most everyone. "Does that jive with what you saw, Lieutenant?"

"Yes sir."

"Anything to add?"

"The hostiles were quite... hostile towards both the Major and Ronon, sir. They seemed respectful of Colonel Sheppard and Lieutenant Stackhouse. But otherwise, no, I did not really see anything of note."

"Very good. Dismissed." Mitchell waited until Edison was gone before he looked to Ronon. "How about you?"

Ronon shrugged. "Sheppard was fine. Two arrow holes, no organs pierced. He was on his feet when I left."

"Or you wouldn't have left," Mitchell surmised.

"Nope."

Lorne rocked on his heels, waiting until Cam looked at him to add, "There's some kind of politics going on. A few of their number had tattoos on their faces, they were on the fringe, at the back. Body language tells me they are second class, following in the wake of the unmarked. The girl that fired the arrows at us was thrown right under the bus by their leader, ordered to commit suicide and offer her blood to John to make amends."

"Do they want a stoned haima stumbling around their town square? A haima would have to be mortally wounded and actively bleeding out to ingest that much blood."

Leaning against the edge of Cam's desk, Lorne crossed his arms and nodded in agreement. "Which they had to know. They call their haima kizel, they knew John for what he was. This Jykor that led them had to know John didn't need all that blood. So why the extreme punishment?"

"As you said, politics. Was the girl tattooed? I think I read that the First Kin... the drakon, marked themselves to identify their clutch, their family."

"Nate has tattoos on his leg, going all the way up his side," Lorne said.

"He does?"

Lorne nodded. "I couldn't help but notice today."

"Okay." Cam filed that information away. "So, they're walking into trouble?"

Ronon rolled his eyes. Lorne twisted his lips and replied, "This _is_ Colonel Sheppard we're talking about."

"Right. Time for contingency planning."

**~*~**

As they reached the edge of the valley, John stopped short and stared. Beside him, Teyla let out a small gasp of delighted surprise.

“Oh!” Nate exclaimed as he caught sight of dozens of drakon in flight. The sun shimmered off scales in a rainbow of colors.

*No crying. There’s no crying on away missions!* John told Nate as he sensed the upswell of emotion coming from his friend. *Keep it together, buddy.*

“So many,” Nate breathed out, clasping John’s shoulder as he stepped forward and stared up at the sky. *Even before The Plague, there were never so many, flying freely.*

Jykor turned to glare at them impatiently when they didn’t continue to follow him along the winding trail. “Coming!” John called. “Just admiring the view.”

“Have you no chimerie in your homeland?” Arihanna asked quietly as she stared at Nate, no doubt seeing the shifting emotions on his face as he shielded his eyes to watch the drakon in flight above them. The walls of the valley were dotted with dark spots, the mouths of caves. Individuals broke from the groups frolicking in the air to dart to the valley walls and disappear into the caves.

“Not anymore,” John answered her when Stackhouse was silent. “We should get moving, our guide is getting antsy. He grasped Nate’s elbow and tugged him along.

When they got closer to the settlement, the scent of drakon in the air almost knocked John to his knees, it was so potent. They were stopped on the path by more toga-clad guards, armed with spears and bows. It seemed, like most races in Pegasus, hiding from the Wraith had kept the population of this world in a pre-industrial state.

An elderly woman in a flowing robe with tattoos showing on her neck and face called out in a trilling voice, “You have brought strangers, Jykor! Have the fires of the netherworld gone cold with frost?!?” She laughed heartily as Jykor scowled and brushed past her, ignoring the question. Then she advanced on John and Nate, looking them over approvingly and smiling in welcome. When she reached Teyla, she quirked her head and peered closely at her, giving a small sniff.

*If she licks Teyla, I’m going to bust a gut laughing,* Nate said to John, who managed to not crack a smile at the thought.

“Hello, pretty flower,” the old woman said, patting Teyla’s cheek. “Quite the beauty you are.” John had been a little concerned about the traces of Wraith DNA that Teyla possessed becoming an issue, but apparently, the drakon didn’t pick up on it. “Does she serve you, Master Kizel?” Her tone was reverent towards John, just as Arihanna’s had been.

*Her name is Olfi, she is an elder of the Southern Cunae,* Arihanna supplied helpfully. Then she went down on one knee and bowed her head. “Greetings, honored Olfi,” she said. “Fair sky and warm sun.”

John didn’t kneel, but he did step forward, smile and nod his head respectfully. “I am Colonel Sheppard of Atlantis, honored Olfi. Teyla is my friend, as is Lieutenant Stackhouse. We work together.” John hoped he hadn’t just put his foot in it, but he preferred being honest up front when doing the meet and greet thing. While on away missions, pretending to be anything other than Teyla’s friend had always gotten him in deep trouble with natives in the past.

“Lieutenant Stackhouse? An odd name for a chimerie,” Olfi remarked.

Stomping, his sandals flapping hoisily against his heels, Jykor came back and tapped his foot as he glared at Olfi. “They are to be taken to the Synod for an introduction, there is no time for your foolishness, old one!” Jykor barked.

“There is always time enough to greet new friends, you impatient whelp!” Olfi replied, pointing a finger in his direction. “The first travelers to come here in three hatchings time and you’ll rush them past my door? This is my right. It has always been the right and duty of my cunae to greet the travelers. Or shall you usurp that tradition as well?”

Nate met John’s look over the old woman’s head. *Politics,* John said, rolling his eyes.

Glaring daggers at Jykor, Olfi made a motion in the air with her hand that was either the invocation of a dreadful curse or simply rude, either way the intent was clear, as was the result. They could hear the grinding of Jykor’s teeth from thirty yards away.

She turned to Nate. “As I said, Lieutenant is a very odd name, how did you come by it?”

“Lieutenant is my rank, honored one. My given name is Nathan, my friends call me Nate.”

“You are part of a military force?” Arihanna asked, speaking more freely in the presence of the elder than she had while they were walking.

Nate nodded. “John is my commanding officer.”

“As is proper. He is your Kizel,” Olfi said, nodding her head briskly as she made the declaration. She reached out and squeezed Nate’s upper arm. “Young, strong. Are you healthy?”

John saw Nate stifle a smile. “Yes, I am.”

“We are cursed with an overabundance of females on Arept.” She turned and glared at Jykor again. “It has made our males cocky and flighty and self important. They fight over words and ideas now, rather than for their brides, as in the old times. It has made them lazy and dull witted.”

“Enough of your chatter, harridan!” Jykor snapped.

Olfi growled low in her throat, and John was reminded of Ronon, especially when she shot a withering look at Jykor. “Enough when I say enough. Close your jaws or I shall make sure you never father a hatchling again. Arept will be better off, with no more of your spawn in the skies. You have no respect!” Pressing his lips together, Jykor looked ready to spit nails.

“Have you a nestmate, Nate?” Olfi’s tone was as sweet as pie as she turned back to him.

Nate blushed and shuffled from foot to foot. “Well, uhm, not as such, no.”

“You will come with me, now,” Jykor commanded, and waved the guards forward. “Olfi, you have no authority to make matches or offers to strangers. That is for the Synod of Arept to decide. This meeting is done.”

“We are not all as rude as THAT one,” Olfi told Nate, patting his arm as he was encouraged to move by the guard approaching him.

*Master Kizel. Be wary of those that do not bear the markings of their cunae. Their thinking is radical and oftimes dangerous,* Olfi said into John’s mind as he walked away. *The unmarked ones murdered the Kizel of Calipar, in the name of their Path of Reason. It is only a matter of time before what happened there happens here in Arept.*

She couldn’t hear his response, as they did not share a true bond. It was a testament to her great age and skill that she had spoken to him directly without such a bond. He stopped and turned to catch her eye. He nodded, indicating he understood her warning.

*Too many fools on the wing these days. I fear the old ways shall soon be but a memory,* Olfi said. Then aloud she bid them all, “Fair sky and warm sun, my new friends.”

They climbed many stairs to get to an ornately tiled chamber. The room was huge, as befitted drakon. It was perhaps large enough for three drakon of Nate’s size to stand within the walls comfortably, five if they were friendly and squeezed in. Colorful mosaics decorated the walls, floors and ceilings.

They were brought to the Synod, John and Teyla were shuffled off to the side of the chamber and Nate was brought before the leaders of Arept, two men and four women. Only one, an old woman that sat alone on a bench to the side, bore the markings of a cunae. She smiled at them.

*Getting a bad feeling about this. I can practically taste the tension in here,* John said to Nate. They were being stared at with open hostility by two of the women and one of the men.

Jykor had apparently laid out his case already on the way in, and John was reminded why he hated dealing with telepaths and politics in the same room. Smiles on the outside, venom on the inside. He did not miss living within the confines of the Sheppard coven back home, this was the sort of thing that they revelled in, meetings and politics and conflict. John had no stomach for it.

“Bring the girl forward,” a women with hair so white it was almost blue said icily. Arihanna was shoved to the center of the room. “Do you deny that you shot the Kizel?” She did not even bother to look over at John, the supposedly aggrieved party.

She kept her chin up as she looked at the woman asking the question. “No.”

“You failed to properly atone. You have brought shame upon your cunae. You have admitted your guilt, the punishment is clear,” the white haired woman said.

Nate waved a hand to draw the bitchy woman’s attention and called out, “Wait a minute! She gave him blood, she helped him heal. We are satisfied that this was not intentional, there was no insult given.”

One of the men leaned forward from where he sat on his bench and said, “One arrow might have been an error, however, two shows intent. She did not make amends in the proper manner.”

With a cold smirk, one of the other women asked Arihanna, “By the law and by your own precious traditions, there is now only one course of action, is there not?”

The old woman with the markings chewed on her lip, but remained silent. Offering neither censure nor support.

“Yes,” Arihanna said, her head down, the hood of her cloak hiding her face as she stared at the floor.

Looking quite pleased to make the pronouncement, the white haired woman said, “You are stripped of all rights. You are no longer of Arept.” Arihanna’s shoulders slumped. “And you will pay for your crime.”

A man stepped forward, drawing a sword. Arihanna knelt on the mosaic floor, her cloak pooling around her, stark black against the multitude of colors that made up the floor. The swordsman yanked Arihanna’s hood back and shoved her heavy hair aside, baring her neck.

*John!* Nate turned and looked at him helplessly. *We have to stop this!* When he moved to make a grab for Arihanna, he was seized by three guards and dragged backwards across the chamber, kicking and struggling as they held him.

*Master Kizel, your friend will not hear me.* John looked around for the source of the voice in his mind. He saw the old woman of the Synod with the tattoos looking straight at him. She gave a nod, it was her speaking to him. *Arihanna has been stripped of her cunae, she is without the protection of her family or that of a Kizel. If one were to claim her now, to offer her their protection, the law is clear, the execution would be stayed.*

The blade was already raised, the executioner tensing for the killing stroke. It was only because John was haima that he was able to dash across the room and get between Arihanna and the swordsman before the blade swung down all the way. He caught the blade a few inches from the tip between the palms of his hands, holding it about a foot from Arihanna’s neck. Blood trickled down his wrists and rolled down the metal to drip on the tile floor. Arihanna moved her head to look at the blood and then stared up at John with wide eyes.

“I claim Arihanna the nameless for my coven. She is under the protection of Atlantis from this moment forward.” John hoped it was enough in the eyes of their laws, that the words satisfied their tradition.

The executioner bowed his head and tugged the sword back. John released his hold on the metal and crouched down, taking Arihanna’s elbow and bringing her to her feet as he turned to face the Synod. “And, we’ll be leaving now.” He glared at the men still holding Nate. “Release my drakon. Teyla, with me.” John didn’t wait to be dismissed, or to see if the men let Nate go. He pulled Arihanna along beside him as he headed for the door.

“This is...!” the blue haired woman shouted.

“... within the law. The Kizel has every right to claim one denounced,” The old woman with the markings interrupted, speaking aloud for the first time.

Nate had been released and he ran over to join them, walking beside Teyla as they exited the chamber.

“John...”

“Shh. I’m thinking. We need to get out of here, onto friendly ground,” John said, following the corridor back the way they had come, trying to remember the layout. He knew it wouldn’t be long before Jykor and his cronies got their shit together and came after them. They clearly wanted Arihanna dead, and they might not try to do it within the confines of the law when they caught up with her.

Arihanna still seemed stunned from her brush with the sword. She stumbled along beside John, leaning heavily on his arm. When they reached a staircase, they were about to start down when a woman hissed at them from a doorway to get their attention and beckoned to them. “Come, quickly. This way.” It was only because she had markings on her face similar to the ones Arihanna wore that John followed.

They were led into a narrow corridor. “This lets out in the garden of the Eastern cunae. It is only a short walk through the trees to the Shrine of Poltan.”

John noticed a change in his companions breathing as her step faltered at the mention of the shrine. “Will Arihanna be safe there?”

“Yes. Even the followers of the Path will not approach the shrine of Poltan,” the woman replied.

Teyla, ever curious about the cultures of other worlds, asked, “So they still respect Poltan, despite their new beliefs?”

“Oh, no!” the woman tittered. “They just will not enter the shrine.”

“The shrine of Poltan is said to be cursed,” Arihanna added in a quiet voice. “There have been incidents, and most fear the shrine and will not enter the grounds. There are things roaming the grounds that kill indiscriminately.”

“We’re not afraid of curses,” John declared.

“You would do well to be,” the woman leading them said, stopping to stare at them.

John tossed his head, letting his fangs slide down, tamping down on the pain as the points pierced his gums. “I’m the stuff curses are made of,” he growled. It would have been a much more effective declaration if Nate hadn’t snorted.

**~*~**

Nate had been shaken by the whole incident in the Synod chamber. The fact that the leaders of the Arept had been willing to cut down one of their own - over a technicality - had enraged him. The life of every drakon was precious to him. He had been so shocked that he hadn’t realized they were moving to lop her head off right then and there.

*How did you know to do that?* he asked John as they picked their way through the woods. *How did you know that saying what you did would stop them?*

*The old lady with the tattoos told me. I think she tried to tell you, but she couldn’t get through that thick skull of yours.*

He grimaced. *I was being bombarded with propaganda from random strangers from the moment we entered the valley, so I started blocking out everyone that wasn’t you.*

They arrived at the stone path that led to the shrine and their guide ran off, her good deed for the day apparently done, and not extending to actually entering the cursed grounds. “Are you going to walk around like that?” Nate asked, tossing his nose in the direction of John’s fangs.

“Good for scaring, or tearing, whichever I need.” John had pulled his P-90 around from where it had been resting against his back, as did Teyla.

Arihanna walked beside John, pointing the way to a side doorway. “There should be an antechamber through there. There is only one door in, it is smaller, easier to defend than the main chamber.”

It was a little dank and dusty, but no worse than other buildings they had visited on away missions. Teyla positioned herself beside the door as Arihanna pressed back against one stone wall and slid down to sit on the floor. John and Nate sat beside her.

“I owe you my life, Mast... John.”

John patted her arm. “Don’t mention it.”

“You should come with us to Atlantis, you will be safe there,” Nate said.

Surprisingly, Arihanna shook her head in denial. “I cannot leave my people. There are so few of us left that do not follow this path of insanity. I must find a way to continue my work, protecting those that still know what it means to be Arept.”

“You were made, they knew what you were up to,” Nate said as understanding dawned. “That was why Jykor had such a hard-on... ehem, why he wanted you dead.”

Arihanna nodded and sighed. “I am uncertain how effective I can be, sneaking around and hiding, but I will do what I can do.”

They talked for a little while about the way the changes had come about, how the shift of power had affected the people of the valley. And about the other fernal races and how they had been driven out or eliminated from the settlements. Arihanna painted a dire future for the society she was trying so hard to preserve.

When prompted about the dearth of their kind in his homeland, Nate talked about the drakon of Earth. He and John took turns telling Arihanna about the Black Death, and how it had killed so many people, human and fernal alike. Nate had more details, since he had lived through it. Teyla, of course, was fascinated and listened without comment as she stood guard by the door.

“What was that?” Nate suddenly jumped as something skirted the edge of his vision, moving in the direction of the corner.

Teyla immediately aimed her weapon where Stackhouse was staring. “I see nothing there, Lieutenant.”

“John?” John was on his feet, walking towards the shadowy corner. “Be careful,” Nate warned, “What do you see?”

“Nothing. I sense something though. Something full of bad attitude.” Sheppard stopped and looked up. A shadow passed over him and he spun on his heel, trying to track the motion. “Over there!” he pointed.

“I think perhaps this place IS cursed!” Arihanna called, pressed back against the wall and looking around, her eyes wide with fear.

John growled and suddenly lurched forward, reaching for something. He stumbled and swiped at empty air. “More than one,” he declared.

Thought he tried, Nate couldn’t see more than an occasional shadow, nor could he pick up any scents out of the ordinary. He sidled over to Arihanna and she left the wall to press close to his side. “Do you sense anything?” he asked her.

“Only the dampness. I see some shadows, but as soon as I have seen them, they have moved away,” she replied calmly.

“There has to be a logical explanation for this,” John said. “There is no such thing as a curse.”

“Now you are beginning to sound like Rodney,” Teyla smiled as she spun towards a new sound, a scratching noise.

“Maybe they’re alastor?” Nate called to John.

John wrinkled his nose. “Maybe. I’m not sure. The scent is wrong. And alastor generally don’t travel in packs.”

“You can smell something?” That was new. John’s sense of smell had always been on par with Nate’s own, and he couldn’t smell anything in the room.

“Yup. I’ve smelled it before. I can’t remember where or what it is, but I know it’s setting the hair on my neck on end. It’s gonna make me nuts until I figure it out.”

Grasping Nate’s sleeve, Arihanna gave him a tug towards the door. “We should go. We can hide in the woods, away from the grounds of the shrine.”

“I do not fear shadows. I prefer to know what is here before we abandon a suitable place to hide while we wait for Atlantis to send a puddlejumper,” Teyla said as she heard Arihanna’s words.

“Your friends are coming back?” Arihanna looked surprised.

With a nod, Teyla replied, “They will certainly send someone to retrieve us when we do not report to the city at the proper time.”

“Edinburgh!” John blurted and lifted his P-90, his eyes going to the base of the walls, searching for something

“What about Edinburgh?” Nate asked warily. Some very nasty fernal races came from Scotland, preferring to dwell in the rough terrain and solitude offered by The Highlands.

“I remember the smell, I spent some time there after I was turned, learning to hunt. I almost died in an alley in Edinburgh.” John was turning a circle now, trying to look everywhere at once.

Teyla asked before Nate could, “Do you know what it is, John?”

“Fucking brownies,” John snarled, his fangs flashing.

“Damn it!” Nate stomped his foot. This was not good. Not good at all. Brownies were nasty. They were beings of pure emotions, and teeth. There was no reasoning with the mindless little cretins, and they had a taste for warm, living flesh. “Arihanna is right, we need to get out of here. We need to be out in the open.” Out in the open they could fly.

“We should run for the trees,” Arihanna said, edging towards the door, pulling Nate along by the sleeve of his jacket.

“Too late, they have our scent,” John replied. “They’re massing before they materialize. Then they swarm. Shit.”

“At least out in the open, there’s room for me to shift, I can spit and burn.”

John shook his head. “You won’t have time to change. They’ll be in you before you’re finished. You’ll be a dead drakon.”

“I’m useless in human form, John.” Nate protested.

Teyla made a noise of disbelief. “I have seen you spar with Ronon, Lieutenant, do not discount your skills.” The compliment was nice, but it didn’t lessen Nate’s feeling of helplessness.

“Have you a weapon I may use?” Arihanna asked. John pulled the knife from his belt and walked over to hand it to her.

“In here, we can put our backs to the wall, we’ll see them coming in. Out there, who knows how many of them there are?” John said when Nate started for the door. He checked his watch. “Fifty five minutes until our scheduled check in. We can hold our ground here.”

Nate eyed the bare room. “Too bad there’s nothing to use to block the door.”

“You and Arihanna go to the wall, stay back to back over there. You’ll be able to see them when they’re coming, they don’t stay invisible when they’re swarming.” John went to stand with Teyla by the door, looking out through the open doorway. “The sun will be going down in a little while. If they’re anything like the ones back home, they’re probably going to wait ‘till dark, the sneaky little bastards.”

Checking her weapon, Teyla asked, “Will bullets stop them?”

John shrugged. “I dunno. I hope so. I’m fast, but not fast enough to take on a swarm.” He looked over at Nate. “Too bad we didn’t bring a few allaghi with us, some dog kin or wolf kin would be welcome right about now.”

“Teeth and nails, yeah. This is their kind of fight,” Nate agreed with a nod.

They did not wait until twilight. It was about fifteen minutes later that the first few brownies became visible, shimmering into existence suddenly and running at them, screeching noisily. Teyla fired about thirty rounds into one before it fell over. John opted for a show of brute force and tore one hairy little beast apart with his hands and tore the throat out of another as Teyla kept shooting. There was a lull after they dispatched the first of the attackers. Leaning through the doorway, John tossed out the broken corpse of the brownie that had made the mistake of leaping up and latching onto his throat. He hissed at the pain and fell back against the wall, holding a hand to the bloody wound.

“You okay?” Nate called. He was sensing pure rage from John, it was overwhelming everything else that might be coming from him at this point.

“Yeah.” He waved Teyla off when she started towards him. “Fine. Hopefully the little pile of death out there makes them think twice before charging us again.”

John’s hope proved futile, shortly another group of them came at the door. This time, John was shooting them too, he and Teyla spraying the area with bullets until they both ran out of ammo. As Teyla was reloading, John fought them off as they came through the door. They weren’t big, they were only slightly taller than John’s knees. They were covered in hair and seemed to be all mouth and razor sharp teeth, their eyes were small, beady and sunken in their heads.

A familiar and welcome noise arose outside. “That’s P-90 fire!”

Along with the weapons fire, they suddenly heard a roar. Smiling in relief, John looked over at Nate and together they said, “Mitchell.”

A large furry form tumbled through the doorway, snapping and snarling and wrestling with two brownies. A second followed, and then two more. Nate had never been so relieved to see the allaghi of his cartel. Not just any allaghi, either, but his four most trusted men, the ones that helped keep order among the fernal in the city. Mitchell barrelled through and tore a pair of brownies off the back of one of the wolf kin, smashing the small bodies together and dropping them at his feet and kicking them away. He then turned towards the door and proceeded to tear the heads off a few more. No small feat, since brownies have no necks and it is difficult to know where to rip.

Nate had wondered how the turning was going to affect Mitchell, when John had told him his physical form was still the same when he shifted, he had been curious if he would show any haima traits. He was fast, like a haima, that much was quite certain. One moment he was in the center of the room, in the next he was outside, roaring his head off. His fangs were huge, reaching far past the point those of any other lion kin Nate had ever met extended. Almost like a saber-toothed tiger. The thought made him chuckle as he watched his men fight.

“You are amused?” Arihanna asked, giving him a look that suggested he was nuts.

“Relieved,” he replied, aiming his P-90 at the floor.

“I have not seen galpen in many years, and there are five of them here now, of two different breeds, such as I have ever seen!”

“Three,” Nate said, reaching down to haul Sergeant Lincoln up off the floor as he punched the brownie that had been gnawing on the back of his neck in the face, sending it flying across the room. “Lincoln here is dog kin.” He gave Lincoln’s shoulder a slap and sent him back into the fray. “So is Richards, over there with the white spots. Thomas and Gonzalez are wolf kin.”

“Come on, head for the jumper. They’re crying for reinforcements!” John called through the doorway. When the allaghi didn’t immediately break off the fighting, John gave a sharp whistle to get their attention. “Out! Puddlejumper. Now!”

Nate took Arihanna by the hand and pulled her after him to the door. He followed John and Teyla, smiling as the marines bounded along beside them, tossing aside the occasional brownie that ran at them.

The jumper was cloaked, Private Thomas ran ahead, made a sudden left turn and disappeared, which showed them where it was. Nate ran for it, dragging Arihanna forward when she paused at the ramp, gaping into the jumper. He managed to pull her aside before Mitchell pounded up the ramp after Richards and Gonzalez.

John had gone directly to the pilot’s seat, calling up the overhead sensor display. “They don’t turn up on sensors. How can they not have a heat signature? Probably phasing in and out. Stupid brownies, pick a reality and stay in it, you little shits!”

“Button up, we’re all here,” Mitchell called as Lincoln finally caught up with them. John raised the ramp and had them airborne before it finished closing all the way.

“Arihanna, come forward, let’s see if we can’t find a better place for you to stay,” John called.

She went to the front, and Nate followed. She looked out the viewscreen and clapped her hands. “A flying machine. How delightful.” Nate steered her into the co-pilot’s seat and sat behind her, amused at her reactions to flying this way, instead of on the wing out in the open. “There should be a safe haven at one of the settlements to the south, near the waterfall.” John nodded and banked to turn south.

Mitchell came forward, holding his boots in his hand, his tac vest undone. He gave Nate a quick once over. He rubbed John’s head as he dropped into the seat behind him. “You’re both okay?”

“Fine. Thanks for not waiting for the timer to run down before coming for us,” John said, glancing back over his shoulder and giving Cam a warm smile. There was something in his eyes as he looked at Mitchell that was new, and Nate felt a small pang of jealousy seeing it, seeing the connection between them.

Mitchell jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I rounded up the Lieutenant’s lieutenants back there as soon as Lorne explained the situation here. I see the lady is still with you.”

“Arihanna, this is Colonel Mitchell,” Nate introduced them.

She smiled and took the hand Cam extended, covered it with her other hand and gave it a squeeze. “Colonel, the same as John is the rank Colonel?”

“Yes. But I’m a bigger Colonel,” Cam whispered to her with a smile. Then he leaned over to tie his boots.

Telepathically, John gave Cam the quick rundown of what was going on, by the time he was done, Cam was frowning and shaking his head. He looked over at Arihanna with a puzzled look. “Are the cunae that you know of on other worlds as xenophobic as these followers of the Path? Could you possibly find refuge with them, get your people out of here?”

“It has been discussed. Too many refuse to leave their homes, they will not give in to the radical way of thinking and forsake the ancient ways. I could certainly find a place on Reltan or Flis, but I need to remain here to help my people. I cannot abandon them.”

Cam nodded in understanding. He reached into the pocket of his tac vest and took out a notepad and pencil. He drew out the symbols of the Atlantis Gate address. “This is the address of Atlantis. If you need us, or you need a place to stay, press these symbols at the chappa’ai...”

“Ring of the Ancestors,” John corrected. “Your foolish goa’uld words have no meaning here, Mitchell.”

Rolling his eyes, Cam pulled his GDO from a pocket on his vest. He pressed a few buttons, resetting the ID code. He jotted down the new code he had made up on the same paper with the Gate address. “Once the Gate engages, press this button, and then this sequence of numbers. Wait until you hear a beeping noise come from it, then you will know it is safe to come through. We have a shield on the Gate to prevent our enemies from coming into the city, it has to be lowered to allow you to pass safely.”

She tried to refuse both the address and the GDO, which made Nate’s heart sink a little. She pushed the GDO back at Cam. “I cannot leave my people. I am grateful, but I must remain on Ismenos, I cannot go while there is trouble in Arept.”

Cam pressed it into her hand and wrapped her fingers around the unit. “Even if you never use it, at least you have the option. John extended our protection to you, this is the very least we can do to keep you safe when we leave. It will give us peace of mind to know you have this, should you ever need it.”

After a few moments of consideration, she nodded and slipped the GDO into the pocket of her robe. Far too soon for Nate’s liking, she spotted some landmarks she recognized and pointed through the viewscreen. “There! There is a clearing there.”

They set down and John and Nate followed Arihanna out of the jumper and part of the way across the field before she stopped and turned to them. “Perhaps you should not come with me. It is better if I enter the settlement quietly, and attract as little attention as possible. I have friends here, they will hide me, and help me in my work.”

John nodded. “It has been a pleasure meeting you, Arihanna. Except for the shooting part. And the beheading thing. And the brownies. Well... okay. Goodbye. Call us if you need us, you’ve got our number.” John gave a wave and walked back to the jumper.

“I wish things were simpler,” Nate said, looking into her eyes, memorizing the pattern of the markings on her face, the shape of her lips, for later, when he thought about this. “It makes me very glad to know that not all of my kind are dead. You and your people still exist out here. I have hope now, I had none before.”

She smiled shyly and went up on tiptoe to brush a kiss across his cheek, touching her fingers there briefly before letting her hand fall away. “I wish it could have been different as well, Nate. Perhaps one day you will come across a more welcoming cunae out there in your travels.”

“We’ll probably look up those worlds you mentioned; Reltan and Fris, see how things are there. Maybe we’ll make some friends instead of enemies.”

“I consider you a friend. I wish you a happy life, Nate Stackhouse. Fair skies and warm sun.”

He kissed her forehead. “Fair skies and warm sun, Arihanna.” He stepped back and watched her until she reached the trees. She turned and waved, her cloak a swirl of black around her. And then she was gone, swallowed up by the forest.

Sad for what might have been, Nate turned and went back to the jumper. He patted the arms of his allaghi as he made his way past them. He had his cartel, and he had John and Cam. He wasn’t completely alone. So why did he feel more alone than ever?

~*~

By the time John got back to the jumper, all the allaghi were passed out, sleeping off the battle crash. Cam was leaning back in the co-pilot's seat, feet on the control panel, his head back and mouth hanging open as he snored loudly.

Teyla was sitting in the seat behind him and she looked up and met John's eyes when he moved to take the pilot's seat. "They are all quite tired, it seems."

"Yeah, high highs and low lows with allaghi. They'll recharge quickly, they should be up by the time we get back to Atlantis."

"I sense that something has changed between you and Colonel Mitchell, John," she remarked casually. "He touches you frequently, small inconspicuous touches, and you do not pull away, which has me quite curious."

"Does he?"

She nodded and waited. He had rarely been able to keep anything from Teyla, especially since she had learned about his haima nature. She would watch him now and wait until he either talked to her or stormed out, and leaving was not an option while they were in flight. Sneaky Athosian, she'd waited until they were away from the city to indulge her curiosity.

He looked over at Mitchell and smirked. "Caught, I guess. We're sort of together."

A smile spread over her face. "Good. You have been alone too long."

Stackhouse came in and John hit the control for the ramp. He didn't even give the allaghi in the back or Cam a second glance. He took the seat behind John and stared out the front viewscreen.

"Good to go, Stacks?" John asked.

He shrugged sloppily. "I guess. Nothing for me here. Let's go home."

~*~

John hung his tac vest in his locker and watched Stackhouse do the same and quickly leave the locker room. *You okay, Nate?*

*No, not at the moment. I'll be fine, I just need some time,* he replied, and John felt raw pain along with the words.

*Let me know if there's anything I can do,* John offered. Cam was watching him, he hadn't yet figured out how to jump in on mental conversations, but it was only a matter of time, John was sure.

*Yeah. Okay, thanks. I need to be alone.* And with that, John felt the slam of a mental door as Nate blocked him out. He decided he didn't like this feeling, as if Nate were suddenly gone from him, after years of his constant, comforting presence.

Mitchell tossed a pair of sweats and t-shirt over his shoulder and closed his locker. *Come on. Let's shower at your place.*

He nodded and followed Mitchell, his thoughts on Nate and the chimarie-drakon, and Arihanna and the enormous burden she had on her shoulders. Cameron seemed to sense he also needed some quiet time, he was silent until they got into the transporter.

"Hey, I changed my mind, I think I just want to shower and then hit the sack," Mitchell said around a yawn as John moved to press the destination on the screen. He reached past John and chose the transporter near his quarters instead of John's.

"Oh, okay," John shrugged. If Mitchell didn't want to shower together, that was fine. They didn't have to spend every minute of every day together.

When the door opened, Cameron stepped out. Then he looked back at John when he didn't follow. "Aren't you coming?"

"I thought..."

"I didn't say alone, dumbass, come on."

For some stupid reason, that cheered John up. He followed after Mitchell and when they were inside his quarters, he tapped him on the shoulder and leaned in to kiss him softly on the lips.

Cam nudged him towards the bathroom. They showered together, the extent of touching being the scrubbing of backs and Cam washing John's hair, which made John practically melt into a puddle at his feet. Cam had to lead him out of the shower and dry him off. Then he pushed him to the bed and flopped down beside him. Rolling onto his side, Cam pulled John up against him and held him like a teddy bear.

John sighed contentedly. This, he could get used to. He was relieved, he had been concerned that all he and Mitchell had between them was crazy, mad lust that had led to a mad bond.

"More than that, John. It's more than that," Cam whispered and kissed the back of his neck. A minute later he was snoring, his breath warm on John's skin.

~*~

Nate appeared in John's doorway, his hair damp from his post mission shower. "Colonel."

"Lieutenant, come on in. How did the mission go?" John gestured towards the chair in front of his desk. Colonel Caldwell and a few of his people were milling about in Command, the _Daedalus_ being in orbit over Lantea for the quarterly supply run.

*Nothing. Again. These Pegasus drakon are as adept at hiding as my kin back on Earth. If we find, them, it will be by accident, I'm sure.* He slumped slightly in the chair, disappointed yet again that he had been unable to connect with any of his kind.

The worst blow to Stackhouse's hopes had come two months earlier, when he had convinced Mitchell to let him check on Arihanna and her people, they had attempted, repeatedly, to dial Ismenos and failed to make a connection. It seemed that even if she wanted to, Arihanna could not dial Atlantis for assistance. The followers of the Path of Reason had, in typical extremist fashion, acted drastically and either buried or destroyed their Stargate. Nate had been rather morose ever since.

"I liked her," Nate said quietly, staring at the ceiling. "She was complex."

"I liked her too. I'm sorry it didn't work out, truly sorry."

Nate nodded. "I mean, it wasn't like I knew her that well, right? Love at first sight doesn't exist, it's a fairy tale. You can't build a life on a fairy tale."

"We need to go out drinking. Ronon mentioned a bar on Chairmos, we should do that. We'll let Caldwell be in charge for the day and we'll go take some leave time and drown your sorrows."

"Okay," Nate agreed.

 **~*~**

John happened to be standing beside Chuck's station, sipping at his cup of coffee when the first chevron lit up. "Whose offworld?" He asked.

"No one sir," Chuck replied.

John set his coffee down on the edge of the console and walked over to the railing of the balcony overlooking the Gate Room. When the last chevron locked, John looked to Chuck. "IDC?"

"One of Colonel Mitchell's trader IDs, sir."

"Let 'em in." John gestured to the guards below to take up position, just in case this was trouble.

John counted fifteen people, clad in robes of various colors came through the Gate. They all did the usual stop and stare at the architecture that most Pegasus natives did the first time they entered the city. Sensing no malice, John had started for the stairs. He stopped and smiled as he sensed a familiar presence.

 _*Nate, get your ass to the Gate Room,*_ John commanded. _*On the double.*_

One of the people came forward and pushed back the hood of her robe. "Colonel Sheppard, it is good to see you once again. Fair skies and warm sun, my friend."

John jogged the rest of the way down, unable to contain his own smile and he went forward and clasped her hands. "Welcome to Atlantis, Arihanna. Fair skies and warm sun to you as well."

She squeezed his hands as she looked around. "This city is impressive, as the stories said. I hope that the invitation is still open, that we are not infringing on your hospitality." She held up the GDO Cam had given her.

"You are most welcome."

Stackhouse came running from the corridor and skidded to a halt as he saw Arihanna speaking with John. She turned to smile at him hopefully as he approached at a more sedate pace. "Arihanna. Warm skies and fair sun," he said, unable to stop smiling at her.

"We couldn't dial Ismenos." John looked from face to face of the others as some pushed their hood back. There were only two men, the rest were women. All wore markings similar to Arihanna's.

"Then they did as they threatened to do. Arept is truly cut off from all outsiders now," one of the women said.

"Do you still have people there?" Cam asked as he came down the stairs to stand beside John.

Arihanna was staring up into Nate's face, seemingly unaware of everyone around her. The woman beside her rolled her eyes and stepped forward. There were streaks of white in her dark hair. "I am Zeta. We thank you for allowing us to come here. The rest of our people have settled with cunae on several other worlds."

"You left Arept?" Nate asked, reaching a hand up to stroke his knuckles over Arihanna's cheek.

Zeta explained, "The followers of the Path burned our settlements, they attacked all in one night to drive us out or kill us. Most of our people were allowed to flee through the Ring. When Arihanna told us of Atlantis and your people, we few decided to accompany her."

"We wish to learn of other people. The followers of the Path closed us off to learning, to the richness of other cultures. May we begin our studies here, Colonel Sheppard?" One of the men had stepped forward and addressed John directly.

"We would be happy to have you," John replied, not quite certain what in the hell they were going to do with a small herd of drakon.

Zeta walked over and went up on her toes to whisper, "We understand that our natures are to be kept confidential. We shall respect the privacy of others."

That was a load of his mind. And John saw Cam relax beside him. "I'm certain that we can find some guest quarters for you, until we can make a more permanent arrangement. While we get that set up, perhaps we could offer you refreshments, a short walk around some of the city?"

There were nods all around. Arihanna and her people had come with little more than the clothes on their backs. A few had a bag or bundle, but most were empty handed. Lorne had turned up to help with showing the drakon to the mess hall.

*What are we going to do with them?* Cam asked.

Stackhouse laughed aloud. *I think they are asking themselves the same thing. They seem to have expected to be turned away, from what Arihanna is telling me.* He had a hand pressed to the small of Arihanna's back as he walked along beside her, escorting her to the mess hall.

*Well, see if you can figure out if they mean to stay permanently or if we're just a stop on the grand tour,* Cam told him.

*Will do. Hey guys, doesn't Arihanna have the most beautiful eyes?*

John pointed a warning finger at Cam's nose. "Don't you laugh. Do not tease him. He's been blocking me out for months, and he;s finally talking to us again."

"I wasn't gonna say anything."

John harrumphed and watched Stackhouse and Arihanna leave the Gate Room. Then he snorted and hid a smile behind his hand.

"What?" Cam asked, poking him in the shoulder as he followed him up the stairs. "C'mon, what?"

"Random thought. It's stupid, never mind."

Cam poked him again. "Tell me."

"Here there be dragons."

The End


End file.
